Fuuuuuck, you miss him, going through his tumblr and all that, seeing what he’s been liking, doing weird shit like that. He had liked something on tumblr about not reading old messages and things from people you no longer talk to, how you should just delete it all. You hope he wasn’t thinking about you when he liked that. You hope he was thinking about something else, like that incident in January. Just the entire thought of you thinking he was thinking about you and all your messages, all your photos, of how he shouldn’t look at them and just delete them, makes you feel sick inside. It makes you feel sick. You hope he isn’t referring to you. The thought scares you.
And you’re siting here now, wondering what he’s doing. Is he getting off work. waiting for the bus? Is he at home? Is he talking to them? Is he thinking about you? Is he out? Is he doing something stupid, like beer pong? Is he just watching tv and playing video games? Is he wondering about transferring with you? Is he sleeping? Is he missing you?
Damn, you miss that boy. He’s a fucking idiot, but he’s your fucking idiot. Look at you, dumbly in love with this boy. Typing away, trying to figure out his thoughts, so you can calm yours.
Leave him alone, leave him alone, you tell yourself. And yet, here you are, 9:33 at night, sitting here contemplating the thought of him.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
For now though, take it easy, take it slow, breathe. It’s okay to love. It’s okay. And when that boy figures out that ‘yes, he loves you, what the hell is he doing with his life?’, you’ll be right there, waiting for him. Or you could’ve left and moved on without anyone realizing it, even you. Either way, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.