Confessions about a boy, 1.

The memories attached to sound…

When that song plays I go back to the passenger seat of your car, when I was trying so hard to convince myself that I loved you. You bought me cigarettes and played music for me on your guitar and I thought I could repay you by jumping your bones.

They say I’m intense. Silly boys like you only buy into my bullshit because you’re all convinced you can fix me when you can’t.

But you were sweet, you felt bad that our first time wasn’t special. On the train ride home I closed my doors to you and opened the floodgates within, choosing to be alone with my emotions.

You used to drive for hours just to see me but I was used to getting beat down and your sweetness almost repulsed me by comparison to what I knew, so I told you not to come anymore.

Of course, when I did end it, you pounced. Stopped being a pussy and put your words into a song about how I left a bad taste in your mouth, stole your happiness and ended up being a bitch.

I’m not. You just weren’t the one, but I’m sorry I led you on.

12/6/2015

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