FUCK.

If he’s not calling you.
If he’s not texting you.
If he’s looking for other girls to date.
If he’s not taking you out on dates.
If he’s not asking you to be is girlfriend.

Then it’s because he doesn’t want to.

Even if he’s kissing you.
Even if he’s letting you sleep in his bed with him.
Even if he’s cuddling you at night.
Even if he gets jealous when you talk about other guys.

If he wanted to be with you, then he would be. But he’s not.

And he’s a fool.



"Fools aren't born, Pongo. Pretty girls make them in their spare time."

Tricked ya.

The scars of your kisses
cover me
haunting me with memories
of the beautiful boy who
once laid beside me
once, twice, again
maybe January, maybe
2012.
Maybe in the garden where
we chased the rabbit but
landed back in the real
world instead of Wonderland.
I am mind numbingly beautiful.
You are nothing short of my
soulmate, but too immature
and scared to see it.
So you'll fall back down the
rabbit hole & I'll stay here.
I'm New York - busy, tired & grand.
You're Chicago - sprawling, physical
& fashion.
We both live in our own metropolis
and both claim to have the best pizza.

I’m so fucking pretentious.
carrying around my Whole Foods groceries and $200 purse.
Wearing my shirt from a Broadway show and holding my $1000 laptop.
I’m only shaken by the fact that there’s spray paint on my nails and shoes that cost as much as my haircut.
And the fact that the ambulance that drove by could have been the same one that brought me to the hospital when those guys busted my face in.
Why the hell does anyone deal with me?