i want to be mad. i want to be fucking furious right now. over the fact that you aren’t texting or calling me. but then i look at the time. and then i remember your schedule. and how i gave you the cold shoulder the past few days. and how i told you i was busy tonight. and how i didn’t text you back earlier. and how i plan on never texting you until you text me first. and how i deleted your number (i think this makes it 7 now). and how i’d do things in spite. and how i rather snowboard blindfolded down a black diamond run at Heavenly than tell you how i feel. and how i’m over here playing and dedicating fucked up ass songs to you when all i wanna do is sing, “youuuu blow my miiiiiind. i’m satisfied,” while dancing around you. and how i have “insurance.” and how i won’t just let shit be. and how i won’t give us a fair chance. and how i won’t let ME be happy. and how i made it a point not to look in your direction or even give you so much as eye contact. and how i put up a front. and how i managed to drink just the right amount of red wine to not give a fuck but still be functional enough to not drunk text you. and how i let everyone else BUT you know how crazy i am for you. how i make plans and pretend to forget to include you in them. and how i force myself to think of other guys like that one guy at the N stop that looked like Boris Kudjoe with Wall St. swag that gave me the eye when really ALL I WANT IS YOU.
and then i think to myself. i wouldn’t holler at you either.
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