You tell me you hate how shy I am. I ask why. You tell me because I can't hold a conversation in person with you, that I never act like you're my boyfriend in person.
"Oh."
I remember you being the one who ended the conversation we had in person that day. You were the one who walked off. You never walk me to class, even though two of our classes are close together. You don't hold the door open for me. You don't hold my hand in public, only in dark movie theaters. You barely talk to me in person. You don't walk me to my car. You're on your phone during every date, when I refuse to pull mine out because I'm there to talk to you, not look at my phone. You ask me to explain something then you get on your phone, ignoring everything I'm explaining to you. You ask what it was I said. I sigh, and tell you it's nothing.
It's my fault this isn't working.
YOU ARE READING
"Oh."
Romance"Oh." A single word filed with disappointment The journal tracking my progress of getting over you.
