for a while when we broke up i pretended you had died. i pretended that you were in a horrific car accident and that nobody was allowed to talk about you. i was allowed to leave class whenever i wanted because i was in grieving about my dead boyfriend.
it wasn’t until you were tagged in a photo, kissing some blonde babe that i realised you weren’t dead, you just didn’t want me anymore. i obsessed over you, you were my first love. i called and called and texted all the time and looking back i wish i played my cool and that you saw me differently.
it took me many years to get over you. and by many i mean 5. and i shouldn’t have when i kept coming back to you because you wanted someone to sleep with. i shouldn’t have cheated on my next boyfriend with you. i shouldn’t have harassed your next girlfriend to the point she hated me. i should have just let you go and learnt from what you taught me.
you taught me that no matter how much you way a guy to like you. they won’t until they are good and ready. i have learnt to be myself in relationships. and that your 30 second sessions you gave me were NOTHING to what else is out there 😉
peace out fatboy. your number one fan (and last fan) has now left the building.