the more I think about it, the more I see how badly you treated me
but it’s hard. She doesn’t really want to be my friend, but she wants to be a mother. Her culture is like a square and mine is like a donut: it doesn’t fit. It seems like all we do is fight and I can never say anything without her saying something negative about it, no matter what I say. I see all these girls talk about how her and her mom are besties and I’m just sitting here in awe because I don’t see why it’s possible for them, but not me.
I want you here. Your hands running through my hair, my face nuzzled into your neck, both of us falling asleep. I want you with me.
its scary to realize in a relationship that there are only two options. you two could either:
- break up
- or get married