The fact that he always wants me to write more is such a pretentious thing.
He knows the topic of discussion will always be him.
"I like when you do your informal writings," he says. This unique relationship we’re trying to hone is tiring and highly out of character given my declaration as a self righteous dick with a fear of being seen as weak.
Like fuck— he makes me weak.
He’s the last person I expect compliments from and the first person I think of when asked if I’ve ever been in love. The complexity involved with his status in my life has been the cause of so may introspective thought sessions and my reasoning for any number of impulsive things.
If I could get him out of my head I would.
Then revisit him as a stranger and coyly ask him out for coffee to hear him talk about politics and the renaissance.