A lot of people want me.
It’s not cocky or rude, or egotistical, or assumptive.
I have pretty eyes, & an honest smile. I’m smart & witty, and easy to be around. I can talk about absolutely anything for hours- I think I’d be doing myself a disservice if I kept all my thoughts & opinions in my own brain.
I’m not easy to forget about, but you always seem to.
At this point, after being involved with you for over a year, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into every time. You will never change.
You’ll call me & say you miss me.
I’ll be a bitch. I’ll give you a hard time, acting like you’re boring me or wasting my time. I’ll bluntly bring up the last time we spoke; whether it’s because I brought her up again, or I made too many “assumptions” about you, you decided you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.
You’ll think I’m really pissed. You hate it when I hate you, but you always deserve it. Fortunately for you, you know exactly how to handle me. You know exactly what to say to make me forgive you, and want you again, but just long enough for you to get me.
You’ll give me a breezy excuse for why you’ve been ignoring me for two months, or why you called me those names, and I’ll take it.
“I never wanted to be his girlfriend,” I’ll say to myself for the thousandth time, ”so I can’t really be mad at him. He didn’t mean to make me cry again. If he didn’t want me, he wouldn’t call.”
A lot of people want me, but nobody will ever be able to get me as easily as you.
I can always tell when you won’t be calling me again. It’s usually right after we have sex. No condom, because you hate them. You came, I didn’t, but it’s fine. You’ll make it up to me next time, just like you always promise. Nobody but you will ever be so bored with me.
You always ask about who else I’m seeing. You get so jealous and I love it – but you’ll never get jealous enough to make me yours, and it kills me.
Boys who are smarter or sweeter or funnier or more handsome look at me the way I wish you did. I can’t wait until I fall in love with one of them, and forget you ever existed. And I know how childish & desperate I seem writing these words to you, a boy who will never want me with my clothes on & my mind open, but all my friends hate the sound of your name. And it’s 3am and you’re asleep with someone else’s name dancing in your dreams & I just can’t stop thinking about you, and how much I wish you’d just give up on me.