So I have this guy who likes to text and call. And I like to toss the phone across the room.
I don’t have a reaction to him. Just the whole communicating thing.
Like, it’s already a foregone conclusion in my mind that whether he turns out to be a friend or boyfriend, he’ll just fucking ruin my peace and be a mistake like every other person I’ve ever met has been.
I mean, there IS this thing in my head that what if he isn’t. You know? What if he’s the guy I’ve waited my whole life for? The guy who takes me around the world and worships the very ground this goddess walks on?
Of course, I got a fright the other day when he told me he can’t wait to see my beautiful blue eyes in person. Um, what?
I said you got the wrong girl. They’re green.
Not 30 seconds later, he produces the photo I had sent to him when he still worked at Weiss, to edit for the website.
That version of the photo is NOT on the website. HE FUCKING KEPT IT.
I mean, maybe there’s something romantic and poetic in all this. But I think of how fucking Psychofag, Scoots and Cuntbreath cannot stop fucking following me around after all these years. Do I really need another stalker?
I’m back to ignoring him and he’s back to trying to get me to talk again. The last time I went dark, I said I was over people and work and I put my phone in my car for extended periods sometimes.
I think it’s more that I think back to 2019, when I figured I wouldn’t get hurt since I didn’t have any feelings. But it turned out I got very hurt and those feelings hit me like a ton of bricks the day after the plug was pulled.
Like, what good did all that do me? I gained another fucking stalker out of it. His bitch face wife became more enamored with me than he ever was, and that’s saying something.
What kills me is I’ve spent more time agonizing over all this for nothing. Just say hi back to the poor guy, Dawn. Would it kill you to be nice to someone who is taking time out of their life to pursue you the way you deserve to be pursued?
Yes, actually, maybe it would kill me.