I Don't Hate You.

I don't hate you.

I'm angry, I'm sad, and I feel betrayed. But I don't wish you any harm.

I wish for your healing.

I am NOT your manic pixie dream girl.

I am SO fucking tired of people seeing me as their very own quirky, cute, manic pixie dream girl. Guess what--I'm a flawed human being with good days and bad days like everyone else.

At least the immature people weed themselves out by running away as soon as their fantasy version of me is shattered when they, inevitably, realize that I don't fit the unrealistic and overromanticized image of me they've created in their heads.

Good riddance. Why would I want to be with someone who can only love a fantasy?

Just a Look

I saw you on Monday, and you saw me, too. This time, I was brave enough to look at you directly. I glanced at you first, hoping that you didn't see me looking. I'm not sure if you did.

I was secretly (not-so-secretly) hoping you were watching me that day, despite the fact that the thought of you watching me stopped my breathing.

As I walked to the exit, it felt like time slowed down. I was brave! I was brave, and I looked at you. And, to my surprise, you looked back. Maybe it was for a few seconds. Maybe it was a split second--I'm not sure. But I didn't expect it, so after a moment I turned away and apparently tried to play it cool by flipping my hair. I didn't even think, it just happened. I felt shy.

I feel like a chump admitting this, but that momentary eye-contact made my day. I feel like even more of a chump also admitting that I hope one day you'll talk to me again.

“She watched the stars collapse knowing that like her, they held onto their light for as long as they could.”

— Wilder