I hate myself for secretly loving you. After we fooled around after months of not seeing each other and we were hanging out in your bedroom, you spoke to me like you knew nothing about me and asked me questions about myself that I told you the answers to a long time ago. You forgot everything about me, you forgot that I even exist. And when I was about to take off to my house and you told me to “Drive carefully and text me when you get home so I know you made it,” I knew that was something you always said to me and any other girl who came to your house for you to fuck. And it was with that line of false concern that I realized that you’ll never love me, or even really like me for that matter. Drive safe…you wouldn’t even care if I crashed on the way home and was burned alive.
