twenty-six june
five : fifty-eight p.m.

fuck you. fuck you for sending that letter, for making me feel guilty about wanting an open relationship (before i even had the chance to suggest it to you). fuck you, i don't want to be that involved. i don't want to like anyone more than i can control.

"soon my shyness will fade and then there will be nothing to stop me from saying what i want to say to you. it's just that when you eat my vocabulary," he wrote, "when i see your whispers and hear those eyes. and you make me stutter. and embarassed. and i hate you for that. shame on you for stealing a boys confidence."




listen : silence