I can’t do this anymore.
It’s so obvious how much i’m infatuated with her. I joke about it to make myself feel better, because the thought of her finding out terrifies me.
My friend tries to push me foward. But it doesn’t help. Embarassing me. I laugh along, but my nails dig into my palms.
little gifts here and there. i feel like a little animal, trying to court. For the most random things. A little thing i made, because ‘im giving them to everyone’.
glances here and there. i’m not subtle. i want her to know. i think she does. i’m a different type of ‘shy’ with her.
Love letters. God. My book full of entries on different people is almost entirely full of pages with her name stamped on the top so neatly it’s as if i’d ever give it out in the first place. Not over my dead body.
I’m being foolish. This one crush can’t get out, yet i’m telling so many people. Maybe the thrill of it numbs the worry of everything else going on.
Every time i see her i promise myself i won’t cry. But i excuse myself to the bathroom more times than not to let the tears flow for a moment. If i smile you can’t tell i’ve been crying.
i cut myself more. i know it’s fucked up. i don’t care. a few slits on my wrist are enough to notice when handing her one of my little gifts. Maybe it’ll be enough that she’ll ask if i’m alright one day. Maybe she just needs to find me in that vulnerable, crying state again.
I fucking hate this. I hate her for ruining my life. shes the reason i overthink EVERYTHING. because i need to be perfect so she likes me. but i’m forcing myself not to. because i’m turning into my fucking tryhard ex.
i don’t need anyone to vent to. just understanding.
