xx

It’s 7am and he’s drunk texting me again. I keep telling everyone I know I hate him and that he’s a tool and the only person who I haven’t told this to is him. In the next twenty minutes, he’s going to ask me to come over, and even though I can’t stand him he’ll find exactly the right words to say to receive the “… you’re making me really want you” text. Very characteristically, eventually I’ll give in. (I’ve gotta work on that…) I’ll go over to his house just like he wanted even though in my heart of hearts I know I shouldn’t. We’ll fuck. Hard. He’ll touch me in new ways. Give me bite marks on parts of myself that I never liked. And I’ll fall all over again. After I leave I’ll listen to sad songs on the bus wishing I was back in his arms. For the next week I’ll rethink every detail in my head wondering why he’s not talking to me again. I don’t know why I always give in like this. I know exactly what’s going to happen and how it’s going to happen. I can’t decide if it’s because I have this aching need to always feel wanted (and I convince myself that even in an intoxicated state it counts.) Or if it’s just because it’s been a long time since I’ve had a night where I didn’t think about jumping out my second story window. I’m just trying to make him my wings when I know he can’t even pick up the fucking phone.