There are a lot of things I want to write about, but these are the first things that came to my mind. A love story.
I accidentally memorized how many people you follow on Instagram and every time your follow count goes up a little piece of my heart dies: a love story.
You told me you wanted my boots wrapped around your neck and called me your little baby doll. I thought it was sweet. I indulged in your manic pixie dream girl fantasy of me because I’m terrified of the day that I become boring and ordinary to you. I’d rather be seen as a baby doll than not be seen at all: a love story.
I can’t escape your internet presence because people from my hometown keep
retweeting your videos onto my timeline: a love story.
You were 32 and famous and I was 20 and nobody and you were the first time I understood what it felt like to be small. You picked me up in a car that was worth more than my college tuition. You told me I was a good girl, a nice girl. You were you and I was “lucky”. We fucked three different times. I felt empty on every occasion. I still don’t know how to receive love properly because it looks like me, in your penthouse, sprawled out on a king sized bed, picking up my clothes, and taking the elevator down from the 16th floor: a love story.
Today I watched you make out with another girl, again, and I didn’t feel anything.
I can’t tell if this is self-growth or acclimation to trauma: a love story.
I like the idea of you because you seem very alive and I am very not: a love story
Why are you at Chateau Marmont tonight and not in my bed.
I will not text you: a love story.
If I am riding a highway of low-self esteem, you were the Uber that drove me: a love story.
Your music keeps playing in my Spotify shuffle and it’s a very painful
way to be haunted by you: a love story.
That's not where the clitoris is but you made a good effort: a love story.
We were drunk in an Uber. You told me you loved me and I pretended I didn't hear it. I don't remember that night but I remember hoping you didn't say it because you were drunk: a love story.
I can't decide if I want you or want anyone that makes me feel anything: a love story.
Your cat sat on my face while you ate me out and it was really confusing.
I still don't know why she has to be in the room when we have sex: a love story
I am depressed and you are a very nice way to pass the time: a love story.
I took up boxing because I imagined your face as the punching bag.
It didn't help that much: a love story.
I can't tell if the girls I am attracted to are because I like them or because I think you would
like if I liked them: a love story.
I looked up your astrological birth chart and it still didn't give me answers: a love story.
I really liked that girl's music until I learned that you were fucking her: a love story.