ink.

Conversations.

You know? You never told me the truth. Probably you were scared. 

I don't blame you.

I was a freak. Really. I wasn't surprised you were creeped out with me.

You even managed to make me believe you. I know. I must've looked stupid and like a complete and utter idiot. Let’s face it. You said yourself. 

Our first time talk was something as awkward as this: 

"Hey." 

"Hey there." 

"Um..."

"Whaddup?" 

"What?" 

Really, that was the moment I face palmed myself with no mercy. 

But yeah, what you did was way worse than the painful smack in my forehead.

Your mission from that moment on was to make me more...social? No, no. less awkward. 

So now our conversations were worse. 

"Hey!" 

"Hello." 

"Why so depressed?" 

"I'm not depressed!" 

"...*face palm*..."

In that moment, I knew you were serious when you said about me being awkward. And stupid. 

Or I was just plain stupid. 

Then it was the conversation about "cute" boys. In that moment, cute was the definition of a little ball of fur: a kitten. So it went worse. 

"Aha. tell me, you have your eye on someone?" 

I was totally creeped out. 

"Um..." 

"God. any cute boys you fancy?" 

"But... cute is something like a kitten not a horrendous teenage chubby boy!" 

Trust me. I felt I was a masochist. I felt like digging a knife on my forehead. 

Then; what I felt about girls? Oh god. 

"Do you want to murder someone?" 

"Um no thanks. I don’t want to be in jail."

"Literally. you hate someone?" 

"Yes." 

"..." 

"What?" 

"Elaborate please."

"Ah uh. Krisha?" 

"No one else?"

By then, there was almost a huge paragraph of people I hated. Worse part: they were your friends. 

But I didn't know, okay? 

You asked me why and it was just plain embarrassing. 

"Its just. They are frustrating, close minded, stupid, dumb, disrespectful, horrendous..." 

And so went on an on until that last sentence. 

" I want to bang all of them. really."