I hate how horrible you are for me. I hate that I know you’re that horrible. You’re not even a good person in general. You’re judgmental. You’re cocky (though only in the head). You’re spoiled. You’re unmotivated. You have no goals. You take advantage of me. You can’t hold a decent conversation. You only give me the time of day when you want something. You only think of yourself. You brag about what you have. You always revert to treating me like shit, no matter how much I give and give.
And yet I hate how the little things you do tell me that you’re actually not this person. Like how you fix my dress when it’s falling down in public, and how you fix my necklace when when the clasp is up front, and how you’ll hold my hand at any given moment and not let it go, and how you’d never let me walk alone downtown in the dark. I know you’re a different person on the inside. I know you want to find out more. I know you want to be a certain person but you just can’t let your insecurities go.
I see your picture and my heart loves and hates you all at the same time. I read your messages and my heart loves and hates you all at the same time. I think of a time we shared together and my heart loves and hates you all at the same time. Some item reminds me of you, and my heart loves and hates you all at the same time.
I don’t think you’re the one. I don’t think we could end up married. I don’t think I could even say I’m in love with you (if I were, because, I’m absolutely not). I just think dinner and a movie would be nice. I think laying in bed all day talking about our pasts and our futures would be nice. Figuring you out would be nice. Someone told me that if he’s bad on paper, he’s worth the risk. But again, I don’t know what I’d be risking. I’d be fine without you. I am fine without you. But I’m just saying, it would be nice.