and i’m probably wrong,
but- good.
everyone else gets to be wrong, and be proud of it,
and be supported in their fallacies
shallow girls with their fickle girlfreinds
so eager to agree that “guys ****”,
hey, newsflash,
if you want to earn the right to be so fragile,
stop treating other people like they’re made of stone,
and these girlfriends who are there for you now,
was it only last week that they were all “*******”
and didn’t you hate them for all the things they said about you to each other behind your back
(all the same things you say about them behind theirs)
all the girls you would call fat and ugly then turn to me hours later for consolation about insecurities or insult to your own appearance,
all the friends you forced me to get to know,
then forced me to hate,
the warnings you ignored,
only to overreact at the end as if you didn’t know,
and still somehow blame it or take it out on me.
this is for the beanie baby turtle you made me throw out of the window because it was a christmas present to me from your now ex-best friend.
this is for the girl i’ve known since i was a toddler that came to my dad’s fiftieth birthday party with my aunt who used to babysit us both.
she came along because she thought it would be fun to see all the people that she hadn’t for the greater part of ten years.
she came to see me.
she was very beautiful.
i forced myself to ignore her because i knew how you would have reacted.
i will never forgive myself for that.
i’ll probably never see her again.
this is for the class i failed
staying up the night before because “i HAD to call you”
the night before the big test because you were so upset over something that was literally nothing at all
and i told you it was stupid to act like it was a real problem
but i still talked to you well into the early morning as i stumbled around the dark streets
in the cold
because i needed privacy to talk to you and my roommate was in the room.
and so was my calculus book i was trying to read through.
but no- you’re not selfish,
that’s me.
the truth is you need me more than i need you
and the truth is when i first met you, you put on an innocent girl act
but you were just a ****,
you and all your friends, the easy, broken girls who didnt get enough love,
from semi-broken homes, who didn’t know what normal or okay were,
and i gave you everything i could.
and you took it all
and then you took it for granted
and then you took me so far in that i never could get back out
i’m tired of being your soft spoken boy
don’t tell me i’m inconsiderate.
don’t tell me i’m not understanding.
don’t tell me you love me when we make up.
you wouldn't know the first thing about it.