I wish you could have been an asshole. That would’ve made it easier to stomach. That would have made it so much easier for both parties.
I wish you didn’t have to be so nice. So freaking charming and charismatic. I wish you hadn’t made me smile so much. So widely. I wish you hadn’t made the corny jokes that made me cover my mouth as I laughed.
I wish you were someone completely different. Someone who wore day two old plaid shirts and who looked like he didn’t ever brush his hair. I wish you were a player. I wish you did this to other girls. I wish you could have given me a reason not to trust you. I wish you didn’t make those phone calls that made my heart jump. I wish you didn’t ever hold my hand, in the way that you did.
I wish I could have an excuse. An excuse to scoff. An excuse to throw up my hands and say, he was an asshole anyway. He sucked. He was mean to me. He didn’t listen to me.
But of course. You were the exact opposite.
You were so nice it was almost funny. You were so thoughtful. You were so fucking beautiful. And your heart matched your face.
And it makes me so angry. It makes me so angry that after you ended it, I still liked you. It makes me so angry that after you ended it, I couldn’t hate you. I couldn’t even write bad things about you.
Because all you were to me was sweet. All you ever did was tell me that I was someone who was worth something.
You cried when it was over.
Just another reason, just another sweet thing, just another reason why I could never hate you.
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