I don’t need you to love me back.
Honestly, I’d really rather you didn’t.
But I do need you to know that I love you though.
Even though you’re a weirdo, lying, sack of shit.
A pretty sack, granted.
I still love you. Even if you refuse to see me, or talk to me, or acknowledge my presence, I still love you.
Even if minutes go by, days, years, decades, fucking ions, somehow, I’ll still love you.
I’m sure I loved you before and I’ll never reach nirvana because of it.
I’m collateral damage.
I’m the death of an innocent looking bystander.
I don’t need you to love me back.
Honestly, I’d really rather you didn’t.
But I do need you to know that I love you though.
I’m confident that I will love you again and again, you fucking creep.
You’ll never die.