This is a night for emotion. For sporadic bursts of intelligence and wit and charm. No, that’s not right. That’s not me at all. I’m vulgar and indiscreet and idiotic. Subtlety is a concept I’m unfamiliar with. I’m lonely. And everyone else is a better version of me.
I’m not sure what I need but I know it involves cuddles and kisses and ice-cream. I know that it doesn’t involve pushing people away and not eating and being a depressive idiot. So I’m going to avoid all of that. I’m going to drink tea and watch something online or read or think or do. Anything that doesn’t involve love. Anything that will distract me in the nicest possible way.
Why do I care about you? There’s nothing about you that should make me care. You certainly don’t care about me. And if I’m not unique, I doubt you are either. You’re replaceable. Everyone is. I will replace you in my mind. And I will feel better.
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