Save my heart. Kill my brain.

I’m casually obsessed and I’m the best yet
I am indifferent, yet I am a total wreck
I’m every cliché, but I simply do it best.
Lyrics taken from The Music or the Misery by Fall Out Boy

I’m going crazy and it’s all my fault. I should never have asked you what you thought of any of them. Fish and chips don’t mix well with a potentially hurtful conversation.

Do you even remember the conversation?

How gor-juus her legs are, how nice a person she is, how you would totally date her if she was available.

I’m not good with jokes; they are cruel to my overly sensitive mind.

&& I am most certainly not a nice person. Nor one blessed with thin-like-fucking-chopsticks legs.

Ask me if I’m jealous. I’ll tell you I’m not. I only want to pack her in a wooden crate and send her to Africa, or Timbuktu, whichever is further.

I’m afraid of What-ifs and Who-do-you-prefers.

Would you be with me if she wasn’t with him?
I’m afraid of the answer.

Am I your By Default or Second Best?

I won’t ever know, because I don’t want to know. So please don’t let me know.

Am I more than you bargained for yet?