Look, now.

I rid myself of the last amount of angst, the last remnant of my highschool crushes. Adeiu, bitches. :):

Untitled

I thought about telling you
just sitting down and telling you everything I have felt in the past
months.
But then I thought of our friendship, and the inevitable awkard glances,
and suddenly the strategy of telling you just doesn’t sound satisfying anymore.

My heart tells me that I should tell you
THIS is how I’ve felt, and because you did
nothing to reciprocate,
THIS is how I am moving on.

Yes, he has your name, but he is nothing like you.
He does not have your charm, does not have your quirk,
or your laugh.
But he does not make me hurt, and he will not put me through the things that,
unconciously ( ! ),
you have.

Whether or not you realized that your love for her
would kill me,
it still tore me apart.
And yes I’m pissed off.
Yes I look to a future without any nostalgia about what I could have been with you.

I lie well, don’t I?
You didn’t see through an inch of my facade, did you?
I’ve had a lifetime to practice it, my dear friend,
and you
above anyone else
should know how easy acting can become reality.

I’ve moved on,
and I’m not going to let you pull me back into the trap of
lusting you without an ounce of payment in kind.

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