The other day Peter told me that he had kept dating the wrong person. I asked him who the right person was, and he had said me. He said, "I think you're the person I'm supposed to be dating, but I already lost that chance."
He's right. He did lose his chance.
I told him I was done dating. I told him that he couldn't like me, and that I couldn't like him. He got upset and blocked me. We haven't talked since.
I'm done dating. I'm done loving. I'm a toxic person who doesn't know how to love. I'm not used to love, I didn't grow up in it, so being in love is dangerous for me, because I shove myself back into the pain that I'm used to, making me hurt them. So, no. No.
I don't need relationships. I have friends, and I have my dog, Bonnie.
I'm too broken to be loved.
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Short StoryWriters block. Do you have those a lot? When suddenly you forget what you were writing and your words and ideas vanish? What do you do to get rid of them? Do you wait? Do you sleep? Think? Me? I write. Short stories, to be exact. Welcome to the w...
