Sometimes I want to scream.
I want to shake you and tell
you you'll never know what a
jerk you are. And that you
have no clue. You never did.
I'm so mad at myself for falling
for it. So mad. I seem to let it
go for weeks at a time. But there
it is, again. Madness. A reminder.
I bet I run into you again, on a
random street in some anonymous
city I'm living in years and years
from now. I'll have my chance to
tell you smooth and straight. And
I won't cry, because I'll never
cry from you again. Not once.
I hope you're happy being oblivious.