FUCKT.

I lied when I said I didn’t love you. I did, and I still do. I won’t ever stop loving you.

And when I say, “love,” I don’t mean madly in love. I mean I have strong affection for you. Legitimate emotions. But that means nothing, now.

I’m over you, now. But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you. That doesn’t mean I won’t stop loving you. That doesn’t mean I won’t stop caring about you. I’ve merely accepted the fact that you have lost feelings for me.

But I will forever, care about you, love you, want you, miss you, and take you back when you need it.

I’m sorry I fucked up in the first place. Really. I’m sorry.

But I’ll be here when you need me.

Stalker.

Some kid in my school is legitimately stalking me, and I’m morbidly terrified for my safety and life.

My first encounter was last Tuesday on the elevator. I don’t ever pay attention to the people around me, but it was just us two, and he asked what I was majoring in. I answered, and left the elevator.

I reach my classroom, and realize the class was meeting downstairs in the courtyard. So I hopped back on the elevator, eleven floors back down, and met with my class.

I’m sitting there, drawing a tree, and all of a sudden, I see him strolling around the courtyard. At this point, I believed it was just a coincidence.

He came up to the bench I was sitting at, and started conversation with me. Naturally, I don’t like conversing with people at school. Especially when I’m drawing. But I was being polite, and gave relatively short answers, in hopes that he’d realize that I didn’t want to talk to him.

He eventually brings up the fact that we’ve encountered one another multiple times before. And I denied it. Turns out he sees me on the elevator often. But as I said, I don’t pay attention.

At this point I didn’t really think much of it. I mean, I see the same people on the elevators every week during the same times.

He asked for my number, I rejected. He offered his number, I rejected. He asked for my Facebook, I told him I deactivated it. Little do I know, he goes to find me and add me on Facebook that night.

I leave the add pending, but throughout the week, he’s retracting the add, and re-adding me in hopes of getting my attention. Even sends me a “poke.” Obsessed much? I clearly don’t want to befriend you.

So today is Tuesday. I wanted to avoid bumping into him. So I took the stairs. Walked eleven flights up the stairs. Halfway there, I see him trailing behind me. By then I was nearly out of breath, and wondering how the fuck he found me. Especially since I was an hour late, and this isn’t the time we bumped into one another on the elevator the last time.

He tried conversing with me, but I was unable to speak, since I’m clearly out of shape, and hyperventilating. And I didn’t want to talk to him. And I was late to class. So I just kept walking, and ignored him.

At that moment, I wasn’t really thinking anything. Probably just another coincidence, right?

Two and a half hours later, I get out of class, and speed walk to the train station. I stood there waiting for the train for quite some time. By the time the train came, I sat at the end of the seats, and looked at the time. I looked at the floor, and closed my eyes.

Suddenly, I feel a figure standing in front of me. I didn’t look up. I just turned around and realized the Subway map was behind me, which would explain why this person was standing so close to me. So I put my head back down, and closed my eyes.

But just as I was closing my eyes, I faintly hear, “so, Connie.” I wasn’t sure if I heard right, but I opened my eyes again. Again, not looking up. All I see are these hideous boots and khaki pants. I recall back to a few hours ago, and realize it was that fucking kid. So I close my eyes, and feign sleep.

For two stops, he remained standing in front of me, even though there were tons of seats available. Soon enough, he took a seat in front of me. I’d constantly open my eyes to see if his ugly ass shoes were still across from me, and they were.

Once I reached my stop, I got up. As I walked to the door with the rest of the crowd, I looked to the right to confirm his identity, and I was right. It was him.

At first, I saw him move over a seat. But when he realized I had gotten up from my seat, he got up to leave the train as well. Once I saw that he was getting off at this stop, I booked it up the stairs. Hoping to lose him in the crowd. And I did.

I don’t know if I’m being paranoid, but I’m actually terrified. Like. Why do these things happen to me, wtf.

*Edit: Mind you, my class starts at 6PM and ends at 9:30PM. So that’s a 3.5 hour interval. And being stalked at 10PM on NYC Transit is the scariest shit ever.

**Edit: Oh, and in addition to that, I left my phone at home. So I woulda been assed out.

I’ve never seen myself like this. I’ve never been this way.　

I don’t know how to deal with myself anymore.

I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore.

It’s a fucking mess.

I hate you, but I miss you.

I hate myself for constantly fucking it up with you.

I don’t get why you don’t understand how I feel about you.

I don’t know why you fucking have to attack me with everything I say.

When fuckign obviously I’m saying all the stupid things to hide how I really feel.

I fucking hate that you do this to me.

And I know this is spiteful as shit, and stupid as fuck.

But I hate that you found her and left me in the dust.

I don’t want you to hate me. ‘Cause I don’t want to lose you.　

So as some of you know, I picked up a catering job with a company called Model Bartenders, and basically they hire you based on your looks. I heard about this from a friend of mine, and we went to the interview together. We both got hired for the first gig, which was insane.

All the girls working with us were drop dead gorgeous. I’m talking no shorter than 5’8’, super lean and thin, and curvy. I was literally the thickest and one of the shortest.

Surprisingly, they e-mailed me to work another even this Saturday. But they didn’t e-mail my friend. And now she feels really shitty. And now she’s really insecure. I don’t know what to do. ‘Cause she’s really not ugly. I don’t know why they didn’t shoot her an e-mail as well.

We don’t think it’s a mistake either, because when he interviewed us, he asked if I was willing to continue working for them, and if I had studio shots to put on the website, but he didn’t ask her.

Blargghhh. :c This really sucks though. I mean, I thought she totally had it. I thought she had more chances than me. I mean, maybe it’s ‘cause she’s 5’2”, but there were two other girls there around the same height. Idk what to do. She’s so sad now.

I hate checking my instagram now.

All I see is her all over the fucking place.

I know this sounds stupid, ‘cause it might not even be her.

But fuck. I see all this shit, and I’m torturing myself.

By wondering if maybe.

Just maybe, you were with her when that photo was taken.

Why the fuck am I simpin’.

This is so not based of me.

Not based at all.

It’s raining outside. And all I really wanna do is lay in bed with you.

I want our arms and legs wrapped around each other, and my head against your chest.

I want to listen to the rain and the sound of your breathing.

I’d do anything to just sit on your bed with our legs wrapped around each other, and our fingers intertwined.

Anything to just have you back the way I did two years ago.

I fucking hate you.

For now.

I work all day, and somehow you manage to occupy my mind without trouble.

I fucking hate this.

I come home, tired as fuck. At 3AM, from a 10-hour shift, and I can’t fucking sleep, because the thought of you with some other female haunts me.

I really wish you knew how I felt.

Even if I told you, you wouldn’t know what it’s like.

You know.

It really sucks that I know you’re gonna be doing everything you used to do with me, with her.

Cuddling.

Kissing.

Holding hands.

Wrestling.

Hugging.

Mini-vacas.

Trips.

Camping.

Birthdays.

Holidays.

Sitting on your bed, with our legs crossed, kissing and embracing each other.

Fuck it. I fucking hate you.

You know what sucks.

Even when you stopped liking me almost a year ago. I was okay with it.

Because we still had these lingering feelings.

And we were still seeing each other.

But now that you’ve found someone else.

It’s all gone. It’s truly ended. Just like that.

Fuck.

I can’t even sleep. Everywhere I look is another reminder of you.

I hate this.

I hate you.

Not really. But for now, I do.

Written on April 17, 2012

Yesterday, you asked me out to dinner. You haven’t done that in a while. For a year actually. Since the time where we both mutually had feelings for one another. Before you stopped liking me. Before I spent nearly an entire year trying to hold on to what we had left. If there even was anything left.

We were quiet through out most of the dinner. A few questions about our day here and there. And few questions about tomorrows plans. But we spent most of our time looking at our plates. Then back at our phones.

Soon enough, the check came, and the mood changed. You started speaking. I was hearing sentences that I prayed I’d never hear. You told me why you decided to ask me out to dinner. And it was because you had to tell me something.

When we first met, we agreed that we both didn’t want a relationship. But that didn’t really work out on my end. I never expected to like you this much. But you kept your word. You didn’t want a relationship, and eventually lost intimate feelings for me. We also agreed that we’d let each other know if we met or found someone else. And so that’s what you did.

You told me that you met another girl. You told me that she liked you. You immediately made clear that you guys have not been intimate, but you guys have been flirting. You told me we should stop seeing one another intimately, and so I agreed. For the five mintues that you were talking, I just nodded and said ok.

I spent all that time trying to hold back my tears. But when it came my turn to talk, the tears wouldn’t stop racing down my cheeks. You told me it became awkward, because I wouldn’t talk to you when we hung out. But truth of the matter is, I didn’t want to say anything for fear that you’d use it as a reason to leave me. You stopped talking to me. So I stopped talking to you. Simple as that.

You told me you missed the times where we could joke around and talk normally. That’s where I broke. ‘Cause that’s what I’ve been wanting back for so long. But everything just wasn’t the same anymore. I’d try to joke around the way we used to, but you’d just get annoyed. And you fucking wonder why it stopped. I’ve noticed lately. Lately, you’ve been trying to talk to me more casually. But I knew it wasn’t natural. So my response was different. If I ever did respond.

You said you wanted to tell me, because you felt it wasn’t fair to me or her. You told me you were trying to grow up, and trying to stop being childish. I hate that you couldn’t do that with me. You tell me you still don’t want a relationship with her. But that’s how it began with me. Everything just hurts so much more because we were never really official, so I have nothing to support why I feel the way I do. Even though we weren’t official, we were exclusive to one another. Well, at least I was.

We agreed that I shouldn’t be crying at the restaurant, so we headed back into your car. You asked me why I was crying, and I couldn’t talk. I think it’s pretty obvious why. I mean, yeah I said I was over you. I said I came to accept the fact that we didn’t have the same chemistry we once did. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still care about you. I’ll never not care about you, and I probably won’t stop having feelings for you. Two years, I’ve known you. Well almost. It will be on July 3rd. And granted, we had sparks from day one. You even told me so.

We got back to your house, and we continued our usual routine. Both on our laptops, taking turns showering, barely talking. I wasn’t talking but I definitely had a million and twelve questions running through my head. When did you meet her? How did you meet her? Who is she? Can I see? Is she prettier than me? Is she skinnier than me? Is she older than me? Is she better than me?

Once it was time for bed, I just laid on my side of the bed. Back towards you, hugging your shark. Asking myself where I went wrong. Why was this happening to me. And suddenly, I felt your arm wrap around my waist and neck, pulling me closer to you.

That’s when the waterworks began. I tried shrugging you off, but I know for a fact, I wanted you to hold me. I’ve yearned for this since you stopped liking me. So I caved.

At first I was crying silently. No sounds. Just tears. I’m sure you knew. From my heavy and abnormal breathing patterns. You felt my lungs press up against your arms. You felt the tears fall off my face and hit your shoulder. You knew. Even though you pretended not to.

But the moment you turned me around to face you, I started to really cry. You asked me why I was crying, but I was mute. You pulled me in closer to your chest and kissed me on the cheek. And again on my forehead. I tried to turn away, but part of me didn’t want to. You started rubbing my back and telling me not to cry. I mean, it’s really hard not to cry after hearing that kind of news. You told me I was stronger than that, but I’m really not. I only act as if I am, but I’m the weakest link. I cried a bit more, and began to pour out everything I’ve ever wanted to say to you. Maybe not everything. But a lot.

Eventually, I stopped crying. We were just hugging each other, with me on your chest. Receiving the occasional kiss on the forehead as I began to reminisce with you from the day we first met. Our first kiss. The birthdays. The mini vacations to Atlantic City. The camping trips, and Christmas, too. The first time we went to places and our little trips to Ikea.

It’s hard thinking about how shit used to be. And realizing how shit ended. How it faded. How I’m never gonna stop caring about you. How I’m never gonna not have feelings for you.

Dated: March 3, 2011 3:07AM

What the fuck am I doing. Everything I say or do, I end up fucking shit up. I can’t even sleep. Why the fuck am I writing, when I know no one will pay any mind to this post. and possibly by the time I’m done writing it, everyone will be asleep. I’m really beginning to think I like you more than you do me. This is probably the gayest fucking post I will ever put up and it goes against all that I preach, but I really do think I’m highly infatuated. And it fucking sucks, ‘cause I’m not usually this way. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever put this much effort into trying to keep someone around. I’ve never actually fought this hard to fix things that I broke. I treated the guys of my past like shit. But I learned throughout past experiences that sometimes I just gotta set my pride down, and do what’s right. I feel like you’re just gonna find a flaw in this post and view it as pity bait. I don’t even want your pity, or anyone else’s for that matter. I just want to apologize for being irrational. I don’t even know how the fuck we started arguing. I’m thinking too much. I’m over-analyzing. But what am I to do, when you’re ignoring me. I know you received my previous texts, you just refuse to read it. Or you just refuse to respond to it. Then you’re going to come back and tell me you weren’t checking your phone. You went out. You were eating. You were in the shower. You went to sleep. Whatthefuck. How can you sleep like this. This is why I feel like I care more than you do. This is why I feel like I like you more than you do me. Because I’m still up worried about whatthefuck just happened and you’re all fucking dandy going on with your life. You say that you’re upset because I claim that you don’t care. I would like to believe that you care. You just don’t show that you do, and it’s fucking with my head.

I wrote this post last March. But I never posted it for obvious reasons. It’s been sitting in my draft folder since then. And I considered posting it this past November when we didn’t talk for two weeks. But I held back on that. I’m still contemplating on whether or not I should post this.

There’s no reason why it should be public. In actuality, I should not want it to be public. But Idk. I guess it’s rare for me to show this kind of emotion. Before you, I refused to make clear that I had feelings. Most of the time, it was because I didn’t.

To be honest, I know it sounds stupid, but I stopped excessively socially drinking when I met you. I stopped smoking for a while. I started doing better in school, and I bettered myself. But the moment shit went downhill, I started drinking again. I started smoking again. And I was slacking in school. It’s stupid that I let myself do that. Really.

It’s stupid that I ever let you have that much of an impact on me. After trying to hold onto what we had left for a few months, I finally accepted that my efforts weren’t going to change anything. If anything, it might’ve made things worse between us.

That’s really all it was. I told you I wanted closure. You told me how it was. But I was still unsettled. What I really needed was to accept the fact. And I was unable to do that until recently.

I’m not saying I’ve completely lost my feelings for you, because tbh, we’ll always be unfinished business. In my mind, at least. But I’ve accepted the fact that we don’t have the same chemistry we once did.