I should’ve told her how I felt a long time ago.

I should’ve been the guy who helped her when she fell, stood up for her when some other ass-hat made fun of her, made her laugh when she cried.

Round and round in circles my mind we go.

Could’ves, should’ves, would’ves pile up. And soon, I’m creating a mental list I can’t keep track of.

I’m an idiot for making her believe I disliked her. That I wanted to hurt her. For leading her to believe I liked someone else.

Even though I knew that the superficial hellion mistreated my girl, I hungout with her.

And now, my love thought all we had was a fucking joke.

My feelings weren’t a lie. But why would she believe me after all I’ve put her through?

I’ve spent my whole relationship with my love lying to her.

As I watch my love scatter down the hall, my heart sinks to new depths. My fists clench at my sides in frustration.

I want to run after her again- try again to make her believe me.

I feel the hellion before I see her, as her sharp nails latch onto the back of my neck. Shrugging my shoulders, I try to escape her unwanted hold.

There’s only one girl I want touching me.

And I might’ve fucked it up before we’ve even begun.

“You’re too good for her,” she snaps- a hint of jealousy there I hadn’t noticed before.

I turn to face her, and a laugh I can’t hold back erupts.

“I doubt I’m good enough for her.”

Her face scrunches in an unappealing way- giving me the slightest satisfaction.

“Leave her and me the hell alone,” I spit in a tone so serious and malicious I don’t even register it as mine. The last thing I recall saying all day.

The bell rings.

I drudge on to class.

But I don’t remember getting there, sitting in my seat, my teacher talking. The rest of my day continues in the same manner.

I don’t recall the rest of my day or my walk home or getting into bed. But I do.

All that’s on my mind is her and how I can get her to believe me. How I can get her to love me.

Now that I’ve had a taste of what it could really be like with her, I won’t stop at anything to get her back.

As I lay in bed- eyes open and most likely bloodshot, the dark room becomes light once more- an idea strikes.

 

 

New to the series? Start from the beginning!

Read part one here.

Part two.

Part three.

Part four.

Part five.

Part six.
 

Thank you for reading! Follow my blog to read more of the series and related (and also random) blog posts on love and life.
 

 

 

3 thoughts on “That Annoying Idiot

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