Am I?

I completely gave up my gynormous pride and wrote to you first so you could jerk me around some more. I’ve always had a thing for the upper floor and the way I’ve been demeaning myself since I met you just confirms the fact that I am a bloody masochist.
I hate writing and writing hates me. I suck at it and I really hope that whoever reads this(if anyone) won’t feel like some nasty long nails are being dragged on a blackboard and if so, stop being such a bloody masochist too.
I should go to a shrink, I know. But this is way cheaper and it might throw back some hate instead of vague words meant to be considered treatment.
So back to you love. I told you I was working a night shift and you asked if I was working in the red light district of my town. Had no clue what was happening but apparently I was crying in the train while the other passengers where staring half accusing at me.sorry to disturb your peace folks but my ..something just called me a whore. So I started thinking. Yesterday I installed Tinder (for the third or forth time) and started chatting with stranger. I guess I wanted to feel better. Or wanted. Or anything to be honest. I have never met irl with a tinder match nor do I think I will. But I was crying today while you were saying those words and I am not sure if it’s because it came from you or because it’s true.
Am I?

I tried.

I let myself drown in your misery and completely forgot about mine. I have always been the happy outside with the darkest inside possible. But you came along and your darkness was almost as black so I went ahead and lost my own sorrow in yours. Little did I know that the result was going to be an even darker inside than I had before. WRECKED. WRECKED. Everything. Lost and irretrievable. But I could not care less cause it is not about me. Never was and never will be. A bisexual Leo full of insecurities who always searches for approval without ever letting the rest of the world know what exactly I want, no, my ego is only big enough to occupy the universe. And yet it is still me who makes the first move time and time again.

Thank God you are there. Cause if you were here I would goddamn camp outside your house just to make sure your light is always on. That was a figure of speech by the way I am not a creep or at least I am trying not to be. Ugh. This is frustration and this entire blog is going to be about it. And all because I did not jump you that night when you visited me in Amsterdam. I should have taken you then and there. But you had to go and make it the sweetest night I have ever lived. I believe not even when I was a goddamn baby were my nights as innocent.

Shaking bodies just carefully, slowly touching without ever getting anywhere just taking in the tingles and shivers while feeling myself falling down a cliff in the most annoyingly long and exciting slow motion scene ever. Feels like I am in a race but I will always be Vettel and you’ll always be Hamilton. However I am fine with 2nd place. You’re my champ anyway.