please kill yourself
I blocked you because you're a fucking creep. Got it? Good.
Leave me alone.
I hate you.
I want to hate you.
Why can't I hate you?
Why am I writing this?
I know you won't jump.
Then why write this?
I want to hate you so, so bad. I won't give this to you. I'll put it in my locker, where you'll find it, where you'll read it, because I've long since given up on changing my combinations to something you'll end up guessing anyway. Or should I say trial and error?
I think you were like a stray kitten to me. Every time I tried to talk to you, though, you ran away. You ate from the can, but you never approached my hand. Ever. Is that what your version of 'love' is? You have no friends. You don't seem to excel in anything. When I ask about you, no one knows who you are. It's all on purpose, though. I can't believe it's taken this long for me to realize...
I used to think that you were a weird creep because I was the only one who fed you, but no; you just bite everyone else. You don't hiss. You wait until they're close, thinking they'll be the one to finally pet you. You like that, don't you? The face they make once they bleed. I'm not any different.
Everyone is "surrounded by people" in comparison to you because YOU choose to be that way. You could've just... I don't know, talked to me? Do you think I left my phone number for you to message me that shit instead? And still, still, I gave you the benefit of the doubt, thinking you were just awkward. I'm done, though. I'm so done. Tired of your "love". Tired of waiting. You'll never let me feed you because you like the face I make when you go away, every time, every day, every time I wait for you to jump out of that fucking bush so we can walk home together. I'm done. It hurts. But that's what you want, right? That's your "love".
I should've never defended you. I used to think you were funny. It didn't creep me out when I found you sniffing my gym clothes—I laughed, actually. It's just insane. How do people like you exist? Seriously? That's disgusting. But I let you do it, so I guess I'm not any better. I leave the curtains open on purpose (but you probably know this already). The windows are always open. If you can't talk, then we can sit in silence. It's the same as we do every day, anyway, or is the wall between my room and the neighbor's bush part of your "love" as well? You hypocrite.
I want to hate you. I want to hate you. I want you to jump. I want to film you as you do. Your bones crunching against the asphalt. Your blood staining it forever. Come on, show me your "love". It's hard to sleep. Every night, I wait. Every night. I'm so tired of eating dinner alone. Waking up alone. At least your ghost would keep me company. But no. You won't jump because you want to keep me like this.
I just want someone to...
But you won't jump.
But I'm talking to a ghost anyway.
But there's nothing else I can do.
There's no one else I can talk to.
I'm surrounded by walls. My voice echoes when I talk. I cook dinner for one. I can't remember the last time I ate at the table. I wait and I wait and I wait and they stay there, and I stay here, and you stay outside, and there's nothing I can do about it, nothing but think about ruining your life like you ruined mine. It was better when there was no reason to wait.
Leave me alone.
Never talk to me again.
I want to hate you.
I want to be alone.
But I won't be. You're here to keep me company, whether we want it or not. The day I stop feeding you is the way you'll get out of that box, calling out for whoever, whenever, and that's scary, isn't it? For both of us. If you want me to unblock you, to date you, to love you, then come in sometime. I've kept a knife beneath my pillow for ages. No one will ever find out.