- freaking hopeless romantic.

I want to send you silly little letters

and I genuinely mean it. I did that for my ex, it was letters to open when he was feeling bad, sick, happy or missing me. he never opened those because I never sent them. I was too scared. I am always afraid of everything. but what frightens me the most is when you're dry texting me as you did two hours ago. I had the thought of doing some for you, you know? I deeply want you to get my letters and to enjoy opening them and stuff like that. I'm a fucking romantic, wanting to cover the person I'm crazy about with kisses and silly little paper stars and paper roses and little letters and I never had someone to give them to because they never liked me back. I'm not asking you to like me back, but to reconsider who's your current partner. man, isn't that strange? you're despiting your own girlfriend. you know she's putting me in danger, telling my rapist he should talk to me. you know she's a fucking bitch but you're doing nothing about it. I thought she'd listen to you, but I believe she has more interest in my own rapist than in you at the moment. it hurts, right? it hurts to know you're less worthy than a criminal. it hurts to know you're being left out, right? please, don't come to me when she'll leaves you, cause I don't want to be your second choice. I want you to understand that you can't love and fuck someone who is an accomplice to rape. 

and I still want to send you silly little letters. I want you to curl your toes while reading them. I want you to fall in love with me. I want to be your second choice, your third one, and more if you have some other people in mind. If you end up choosing me then I don't care, I can wait for you as long as you want. I want to hold your hand one more time. I want you to look at me one more time, I want to drown in your eyes once again. I want you to tell me about your day, about your World of Tanks strategies, about how you hate your maths teacher, about how your sister is a bitch, about every silly little thing you always tell me. I want us to fall even deeper into the love circle we drew together. I wish you could read every fucking text I wrote about you, every poem I composed thinking about you, every dream you were in.  

my skin still burns from the time you touched it. I can still feel and imagine the way you softly kissed my neck. I can still sense the tension at that time, the atmosphere we were wrapped in. it was the best aura I ever sensed. some people have a very strong aura: my ex has a strange one, your stupid friend has a scary one too but most importantly you have a sweet and peaceful one. I like being around you because your aura comforts me. even tho I always end up flustered and blushing at every single thing you're doing when interacting with me, you're always appeasing me. but today I am mad at you. I am mad at you for not realising what your girl is doing. I am mad at you for ignoring her acts and, indirectly, ignoring my rape and the wound she's enlarging deep inside me. 

please do something because I can't do anything for you. I can't break up with her for you. I can't break our friendship for you. I can't stay friends with you any longer if you love her the same way you did the first day you met her.

if what she's doing makes sense to you, fuck off and get out of my life. I'll still send you silly little letters, but you should know that every tear I shed will be because of you, you moron.