it’s 2 am,
it finally sunk in.
you love me.
you said it twice by now.
you do.
the first time was the day of your birthday. i sent you a gift and you texted me a thank you followed by a two seconds long audio saying three words.
i love you.
the second time was today.
we were walking to your house talking shit and laughing, and in the between you looked at me and you says them again.
i love you.
well,
you know what?
fuck you.
fuck you for loving me.
fuck you for accepting my ugly nose, and my ugly hands and my ugly legs.
fuck you for laughing and finding my ramblings cute whenever I get nervous.
fuck you for being kind and considerate of my anxiety.
fuck you for asking how my day is going although it’s none of your business and shit is monotonous nowadays.
fuck you for being a nice guy.
fuck you for actually caring and not pretending to do so.
fuck you for being there, texting me all day long, and learning my routine by heart.
fuck you for your ability to read me so damn well.
fuck you for caring and appreciating and loving me before I even learned how to.
fuck you.
i was ok with myself.
you didn’t have to come and make me feel anything again.
i was numb, and i was ok with it.
i said me too.
but i hate you.
gosh i hate you so fucking much,
because i am scared.
i’m scared of you waking up one day. going to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth, and realizing that you do not love me anymore, or that maybe you didn’t even love me from the beginning.
i’m scared of you seeing all my flaws as, not something cute, but as something cringey.
i’m scared of you learning that i’m just like other girls and not worth anything.
but what i’m most scared about, is not you hurting me, but ME breaking you in half.
i’m scared of getting your hopes up and then turning out to be a disappointment.
i’m scared of me pushing you out of my life because of my anxiety.
i’m scared of not being brave enough. or not being enough at all.
i’m scared of replying ”me too”, and not actually meaning it.
fuck you for loving me in a time when i don’t even know how to do it myself.
fuck you for making me feel like the main character.
it’s 2 am.
it finally sunk in.
i would love for you to hate me,
and i would love to hate you as much as i say i do,
because
in reality, i do love you,
and i’m scared that i may hurt you with my broken and sharp parts,
and break you in pieces if i do.
