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#boyproblems
You drunkenly texted me regarding how I'm supposedly "Really pretty" and how you can "only imagine how much prettier I've gotten" since you last saw me Well, what makes you think time increases beauty? Especially when I had none to begin with? Well, alright yes My beauty has multiplied by exactly 85 times as much as it used to be 0 times 85 is still zero though
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
With time comes.... beauty? no, you're just drunk
I always get myself into this mess I always let him tell me I'm smart, I'm pretty I always let him tell me I have a nice smile, I'm amazing I always let him tell me I have a great personality And that he loves me for all the right reasons And that I'm way to good for him And I believe him I believe every word that comes out of his mouth Thinking he will catch me When I hopelessly fall in love with him But alas, that will never be my reality He will never catch me Instead he will message other girls while we go out for dinner He'll comment on their instagrams while I'm sitting right beside him And of course he will sext them, because what I have to offer will never be good enough But for some ********* reason I still can't stay away And I get myself into this mess Because for I am a hopeless lover and dreamer And the will be the death of me
0
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
Can't Stay Away
"The price of love is loss, but still we pay." And I'm afraid, my dear That I've paid in full For you see I'm running out of things to lose.
0
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
Price of Love
I was consumed by liquor, prompting my gates to open. Out rushed the courage, to share with you my emotions.
0
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 6:00 AM UTC
liquor.
I prayed to God, "Give me him or get me over him." It's been two years, and that prayer still hasn't been answered.
0
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Unanswered
I fell in love with a boy I was never supposed to touch. Not because he was cruel, not because he did not love me back, but because another girl loved him first and left pieces of herself inside his bones. My friend. She speaks about him like a house fire— something beautiful that burned too hot to survive. And I sit beside her pretending my hands are clean while hiding sparks in my mouth. Because he looks at me differently now. Not with the empty politeness people use to survive each other, but with recognition. Like somewhere along the line I became familiar to his soul. It is a dangerous thing to be understood by someone you cannot have. Sometimes I catch him staring at me when laughter fills the room, and there is something devastating in the way he quickly looks away— like we are both trying to protect a crime that has not happened yet. My friend would hate me for this. Not for loving him— love happens accidentally— but for letting him love me back. That is the unforgivable part. So I silence myself daily. I carve my feelings smaller, teach them how to fit inside casual conversations and unfinished sentences. I become an actress in my own life. I say, “We’re just friends,” while my heartbeat betrays me like thunder behind closed doors. And the worst part is— he understands. There is grief in the way he keeps his distance. A sadness in how carefully he speaks to me, as if one wrong word could collapse everything. Sometimes I wonder if we would have loved each other openly in another universe. One where loyalty did not demand self-destruction. One where timing was kinder to people like us. But this universe gave me his almosts. Almost holding his hand. Almost kissing him. Almost hearing him admit what already lives between every glance. So instead, I carry him quietly. Like stolen light hidden beneath my skin. And maybe that is what heartbreak truly is— not losing someone, but meeting the right person at the wrong moral crossroads and choosing pain because you still want to be a good person when this is over.
0
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 11:31 PM UTC
Borrowed Ruins
I fell in love with a boy I was never supposed to touch. Not because he was cruel, not because he did not love me back, but because another girl loved him first and left pieces of herself inside his bones. My friend. She speaks about him like a house fire— something beautiful that burned too hot to survive. And I sit beside her pretending my hands are clean while hiding sparks in my mouth. Because he looks at me differently now. Not with the empty politeness people use to survive each other, but with recognition. Like somewhere along the line I became familiar to his soul. It is a dangerous thing to be understood by someone you cannot have. Sometimes I catch him staring at me when laughter fills the room, and there is something devastating in the way he quickly looks away— like we are both trying to protect a crime that has not happened yet. My friend would hate me for this. Not for loving him— love happens accidentally— but for letting him love me back. That is the unforgivable part. So I silence myself daily. I carve my feelings smaller, teach them how to fit inside casual conversations and unfinished sentences. I become an actress in my own life. I say, “We’re just friends,” while my heartbeat betrays me like thunder behind closed doors. And the worst part is— he understands. There is grief in the way he keeps his distance. A sadness in how carefully he speaks to me, as if one wrong word could collapse everything. Sometimes I wonder if we would have loved each other openly in another universe. One where loyalty did not demand self-destruction. One where timing was kinder to people like us. But this universe gave me his almosts. Almost holding his hand. Almost kissing him. Almost hearing him admit what already lives between every glance. So instead, I carry him quietly. Like stolen light hidden beneath my skin. And maybe that is what heartbreak truly is— not losing someone, but meeting the right person at the wrong moral crossroads and choosing pain because you still want to be a good person when this is over.
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