Tall Kid
10:10 p.m.

I often wonder if you ever think of me when I'm not talking to you. Have you ever rethought something I said, or you said. Have you ever regreted anything? Wished you had something different? Thought that you were happy that that one comment you made reached me the way you meant it to?

I think about you so much, all the time in fact. You've driven me to do so many things that I hate in other people. I make my problems worse than perhaps they really are so I can get your sympathy, those few moments where you seem to really care about what I do to myself. But of course, then I feel guilty for having lied to you and so take the steps necessary to make what I have told you to be true.

I hate that you have this power over me. And I hate that you don't seem to even realize that you have it. I wish you knew that I respect you so much that everything you say to me is something I remember.

I wish you were my friend. Sure, we talk, but I feel so much like you're the untouchable ideal. Do you have others like me that have put themselves all out for you, that are willing to do anything you ask so that maybe they can get your attention? You seem to deal with me so nonchalantly, it almost seems like a routine for you. Too bad I can only see this when I'm not talking to you. Too bad that when I am talking to you you make me feel like the most special person in the world. At least for a little while. You lift me up and I stay there even when you're no longer holding me up.

Like me, my god. I hate that I have to tell you everything. I wish you could get a sense of the way I feel. I wish that I knew how you feel. I fail to see why, after someone tells you the deepest secrets in their soul, you can't even take the effort to initiate one god damned conversation.

Fuck you. (You know I'd like to) I hate that you're so perfect, so wantable, and so confusing. Frustrating. Just be my friend. A real friend. Please.

<< - >>