You’re so good at keeping secrets that I don’t know what to do when you speak with me because I have everything to tell you. The secrets that I have to keep torture me because I feel like I lose you. It looks so easy for you.

I’ve changed just how you’ve wanted me to. You think I’m for everyone, but the truth is I’m here for you. My soul is wild, but I follow my heart and it’s not something that I give to anyone. Because if I did, I wouldn’t believe in love.

Fuck love though, am I right? I’m not. I lie to myself. You are the only one who drives me this crazy, who makes me want to go to your house and scream in your face because I try to erase everything you say to me since you try to make me hate you, but I end up hating me. I fucking hate myself when I’m loving you because I never know what I’m getting myself into.

Do you feel the same way too? No because I send paragraphs cursing you, knowing damn well I want you. And I can’t figure out if it’s lust or love that attracts me to you, but either way I’m here for you, I don’t want to lose you.

I don’t know if you think the same; not quite because you play this little game and it drives me insane because I care about you after everything you did. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with my brain, but every time you walk away I feel the pain, and I go schizo, schizophrenic. I fucking panic when I don’t hear from you and then I try to signal you, pick at every nerve to try to get to you. I don’t care if I hear anger or disgust, because like I said, whether it’s love or lust I know you’ll come over anyway, pull my hair and bust.

That’s exactly why I used to fuss. You made me feel everything and nothing all at once, something nobody else had given me. The way you treated me, I couldn’t tell if I actually loved you or if I was under a spell because you fucking give me hell and you relish it, continuously embellish it. You hold the power in this relationship, and I don’t even care at this point clearly since you’re a drug I can’t quit. I even went celibate because I only wanted your dick. I didn’t care if you wanted other pussy, as long as you came back to me. When you needed time alone, I replayed the memories.

You always make it seem like you don’t like me so I don’t use it to my advantage, and I know this so I try to let you have that even though I thought we were past that. There’s no reason for you to feel insecure. It really shows when you call me a whore even though I’m the one texting you up the ass asking when the fuck you’re coming back because I can’t fucking relax. All of this energy flowing out of me, I want to give it to you, let you pound it out of me. No one else can handle me, kiss me like you do. Even though sometimes you want to punch me, push me down, and strangle me, you make me get back on my feet even when I feel defeat. My heart can’t hate you no matter how hard it tries, even when you say nothing while I cry.

I admire that you’re as crazy as me, but I’m more mature than the girls who act like they’re in middle school. And these days, I try to play it cool. You know just as well as I do that I’m sexy, chill, and I never pried in your shit or wished you the worst when we fought, even though you do that to me and my sick fuck brain thinks it’s hot. You know me. I give you feeling. I give you a reason for being.

Is that too strong? Text me. You fucking lunatic, you make me sick. I don’t hear from you, you think I’m getting attention everywhere and that might be true sometimes, but either way I love you. Even though I hide them from you, you know my secrets too well, boo. Let me go crazy on you. Can’t wait to see you.

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