I’m sick of your false promises.
Every night I go to bed and I wish I had said it.
I regret not what I’ve said, but what I havent said.
I do this everyday.
I think “okay, tomorrow I’ll finally come out and tell him how I feel”
And I never do.
I don’t know why I just can’t spit it out.
I want to so bad but I just can’t. I can’t do it.
So now I’ll go to bed thinking about how perfect you are and how meak and stupid I am.
Why cant I just say it?
I know you don’t feel the same as I do, how could you? It’s me, the friend, always the friend.
I don’t know why I want to say anything in the first place if I already know; I guess I’m just not done pretending it could ever be something more.
I like pretending, and I’ve always liked fairytales.
But I don’t think you and I will ever be a fairytale.