Muses, not Lovers.

I’ve told you, the last time we meet I didn’t want a boyfriend, and when I thought about how I shouldn’t have done that, it dawned on me, that I wanted you to be my muse more than my boyfriend. Not that you couldn’t do both.

Now that that happened, I’m mad at you for holding up to your end of the bargain. You’re not doing those boyfriend things and I can’t stand it. (You didn’t open my Snap until 13 hours after it was delivered.) I double text you, and write a post about it, so it’s a win on some level.

Tell me I’m worth the trouble. You’ve seen a side of me that even I know you shouldn’t’ve. Last night I told you I thought I scared you off. You told me I didn’t. I’m a mess, but the kind you’d be bored without. So maybe, just maybe, you should give me a chance.

You know what? Maybe this is one of those things where people want things they cannot have. I yearn only because you’re unavailable, because you’re uninterested. That is all it is.

You know, I was so tired of this 12 hour wait, I blocked you as a second chance, in case you didn’t text. You’ve done that once before and I was terrified to double text. So I blocked you, to make sure I wouldn’t and somewhere because I really thought you wouldn’t either, I blocked you. As a benefit of doubt, as a maybe he did text and I didn’t get it. It feels so much better than knowing you didn’t. (But you did, you told me.)

I’m terrified of seeing you online, I don’t know why. It doesn’t make me particularly happy to know that you’re there and not talking to me, but at the same time I’d hate to open your chat, as mine reads typing… and I wouldn’t know what to say, and you wouldn’t say anything at all. I really don’t like seeing you online when you’re not talking to me.

I haven’t been sleeping much, especially this week but I am not kidding that I dreamt of you literally every night other than the one before last. I have you to think of the next time Arctic Monkeys play. The weirdest ones. The one where you texted me an ‘I love you’ was long before, these are just you showing up. In the weirdest of ways, for the smallest of moments.

You called the other day and I really remember how rude I was on the phone, but you don’t know how my family can be. You also don’t know how glad I am you called. But I called you back later and you didn’t answer, or call back. I think that’s alright. Maybe that’s justified. But I’m not the kind of girl who’ll get used to unreturned calls, or unanswered texts.

and every morning, I wake up with butterflies in my stomach, an anxious feeling that is brought about by the hope that you texted last night, and the fear that you haven’t. I look for your picture on the list, the blue suit, unconsciously. I still haven’t saved your number to look for it. (and I deleted your number and chat about four times this week.)

I’m making all the first moves, all the ‘meet me’s and I know you’ll take a while till you do that, till you’re stepping out of your shell, and I know it’s because you’re scared. But I really can’t tell if you’re scared we won’t make it, or just scared of me.

In either case, you’re doing your job but give me a chance.


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