You don’t like me, and i can live with that. It took a while, but over the years I’ve realized a thing or two about men. Men are beings of action. They show their affection physically. They like it that way. And if they don’t, I’m just “that annoying chick who’s crazy about me”. I get it now. If I don’t hear from you for two months and then there suddenly is a missed call on my phone at 2 in the morning, it’s not because you miss me, it’s because you want to fuck, in general.
I’ve learnt new tricks. I don’t fall for anyone anymore. I’ve learnt to wait. I will tell a couple of my close friends that I have a crush on you. I’ll immerse myself in that feeling for a week. I’ll toy with the idea of us being together, walking down the streets holding hands and having pictures of us walking and holding hands and with our heads hanging low so that the invisible paparazzi wouldn’t get a good shot of us. But I know that by the end of the week the feeling will fade away. You might say that you didn’t even know, but the truth is you just didn’t care enough to reach out.
I’m not sad that you don’t like me. I understand. I don’t like everyone who has a crush on me either. We probably wouldn’t be good together anyway. I’m only sad about the crush, the feeling that used to get me so high and so inspired. It used to be that I would get a big one, and it would go on and on for months. Nowadays it seems as though I run out of the feeling like people run out of cigarettes, and I’m sitting here yearning to get another you. Another crush. There are no ads saying “Crushing is bad for you, it gives you cancer.” So, I’ll keep on crushing, and one day I’ll crush into someone who’ll want to crush back into me. And all the previous versions of you will blow up in the explosion.