I realised that there is no way in hell the Obscure Object would ever like me. Agreed, he may pay very good attention to me, and check out my boobs, he is not interested in me in any other way than to bounce his theories off of, and to again, check out my boobs. Fuck. I hate life.
And the funniest part of all of this? I still like him. I still LOVE him. Yes, I know, I said the L-Word. No, not lesbian: fucking love. Now, my friends would all be rolling their eyes at this point going "fuck, here we go again", but god damn it, I'm in love with him. I love how immature he is, and how he's constantly an asshole. I love that he can't go a day without arguing-- I fucking adore his impish grin and the way his hair is always casually mussed. I'm a goner when he's scruffy, and hasn't shaved in like a week, and looks like the bad guy from an old western. I'm obsessed, and it's not pretty.
I hate hate hate how in the movies the boy always gets the girl, and it's really never the other way around, unless the crush/love is reciprocal and they're both secretly pining for one another. Because, I really don't think he's pining for me. And never will be.
So I'm just going to keep on loving him, because I don't know how not to, and hating myself for it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment