He’s dropping bricks for me to hold all the while saying “oh my god I’m just such an idiot, such an asshole. You must just hate me.” I tell him, “look I don’t care, please stop dropping bricks for me to hold, I don’t care enough to label you as an asshole or not, but I won’t say you aren’t.” I’m not hoping for you to carry a load from my arms, I’m simply hoping you’ll leave me the fuck alone. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen and I’m sorry your upset.” listen I’m not upset, I’m indifferent. I wanted to not meet you anyway. You’re the one dropping the bricks. I don’t care to “lighten my load.”
I don’t care if you like me too much to be friends. And you don’t either. Because while you drop bricks into my arms with your right hand you are dropping bricks into another girl’s arms with your left hand. Let her go, man. Let us go. We don’t care. We don’t care about you. We are smart enough to know when you said “baby you look so good” in response to one of our stories that it wasn’t a declaration of love. We know, and frankly, we don’t want it. Maybe just shove off and build another wall somewhere else, and we’ll hold hands and skip off and our arms will raise within the newly found weightlessness. Just as long as you stop following us with wails of self-deprecating manipulations, and bricks dropping around you. Stop thinking you’re important enough to text us and distract us. You’re not distracting us because your irresistible, you’re distracting us because your fucking annoying.
Molly Cole
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