Missy and Tony

This feeling of uncertainty unnerves me. It’s almost as bad as the crushing feeling of unrequited love. Maybe even worse.

There’s the confusion, when you’re unsure about your feelings for the person, if it’s just platonic love or beyond that. (I am hating myself for the incorrect use of punctuation marks.) Then there’s this silent desperation to figure out what the hell your mind’s thinking because you don’t fucking know what’s going on, and to know if maybe (just maybe), that person feels the same way about you. There is nothing quite like the feeling of unrequited emotion; the non-reciprocation of what you’ve given to a person, awareness irrelevant. Then there’s the anger: -directed towards the self, because why oh why did you fall? How could you have been such a fool? Masochistic unintelligent girl, why did you love an imperfect being? To get yourself hurt? To feel? -directed towards others, comprising the object of affection, the people around, people in general, and the relative surroundings, because they all comprised to make you fall.

Ate Loiz is here, and I forgot what I was going to say next, and I hope this frame of mind doesn’t continue (I hope my mind gets back soon) because I’m failing my classes and I really don’t want to do that.

I hate you. I love you. I like you. I miss you. I don’t know what I feel about you.


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