I love how nobody I know follows me so I can write whatever I want.

Dear Anthony,

I am writing on here what I will never be able to tell you.

I hate you.

With every fiber of my being that wants you, there is also hatred. Because you lead me on. You tell me I’m cute. You say that I make you blush. You make edits of me and put them on your tumblr. And I don’t know if it means anything to you. And it means so much to me. I know you care. But I don’t think you care in the way you say you do. You told me you had “a bit” of feelings for me. I don’t see it. You talk to other girls. Tell them they’re gorgeous. I know you don’t like me like that. Because if you did, you would make so much more effort. You would stop leading me on, pulling me along, making me believe something is going to happen when in actuality, it most likely won’t. I will remain heart broken, wanting the same person I’ve wanted since February, not seeing anyone else, or wanting anyone else. I’ve kissed people while I’ve liked you, and the whole time I thought of you. Your green or brown or whatever the fuck color your beautiful eyes are. Your soft skin. Your hair that curls so cutely when it’s wet. The way you sing. The way you make my heart race, even when you’re not around. You say things that make my heart flutter.

I hate how when I say this it sounds like I’m in love with you. I’m not. I can’t be in love with someone who doesn’t want me back. But I like you a lot.

I hate you because you will never want me as much as I want you, my words will never make your heart race, my touch will never make you blush, my lips will never meet yours, and so much more. I shouldn’t hate you for that. But I do.

Maybe I’m using too strong a word. I could never hate you. But it makes me so sad, so angry, so frustrated. It makes me feel so lonely, so exposed, so useless.

I just want to be wanted.

I can’t take this anymore. Yet I will go on. I will continue to take it. I’ll watch you flirt with other girls, probably end up dating them. Because they want you, and you can have them. I won’t be content, just being your friend, because I am selfish. But I will be sort of happy, because all I want is for you to be happy. I could make you so very happy. But I’m not what you want. But I hope you find somebody that you want, and I hope they make you happy.

Sincerely,

me.