It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? How no matter how many other women you sleep with, no matter how much I know you’ll never be interested in me, no matter how much I know the words you say really mean nothing at all, and no matter how much I want it to all be true, it won’t be. None of it means anything to you. And here I am, hopelessly wishing that you’d just give me a chance. Wishing that at some point, you’d realize how much better I would be for you. That you’d realize how none of those ladies you casually hook up with give a single fuck about you. I may not be the one you want, but I very well could be the one you need. You said it yourself, you don’t get how anybody could cheat, and how you said that that’s why you’re alone. But you’re really not. Between those meaningless fucks and me, you’ll never be alone. And that’s what truly upsets me. You don’t realize how much better things could be for you if you just stopped to think and realize that maybe what you need is right there in front of you.
If this is what I get for wanting what’s best for you, then so be it. Don’t come crying to me when one of those meaningless fucks breaks your heart.
The saddest part of all of this is that the only thing I can do is sit back and let this happen, and let you do this to me. I care about you more than any of them do. Maybe one day you’ll realize that, but then again, probably not. I’ll never be what you want. And this is the way it always goes. Isn’t that right?