Fuck.
I’m so stressed out about that damn boy, to the point where I’m dreaming about yelling at him. I’m not dumb, I know exactly what is going on and I prepared for it. I obviously wasn’t ready and I fell for him way to hard. But wouldn’t you if a guy wrote you a poem, told you the exact things you wanted to hear, and treated you like you were the only one. Fuck this. Fuck him. I’m going back to sleep.
