I wish I just knew what I wanted. Things are finally starting to work out for me, but I can never seem to be happy with it. Emotions like lust and love really are beautiful, but I wish I could just be numb to them for a while. I try to convince myself I’m fine, that I don’t need you, that I don’t even want you. But truth is, every little thing you do matters to me. You’ve done so much that hurt me, but seeing you might be hurting to suddenly makes the anger go away. I shouldn’t have fucking feelings for you. I should hate you. I hate that I don’t hate you. Maybe it’s because I love you. I don’t know what the fuck love is.
I just heard a bunch of “fucking whatever.” That’s fucking fucking fucking.