the only day you've asked to see me in a month was the day you needed a ride.
which i don't mind giving you, but you have to admit it sounds sad that way, and sometimes i wonder why you got mad that i tried to leave, when you never tell me to come around, when every time you get back with him it looks like you've left me, and it makes me feel small.
well, i understand you probably don't mean anything bad by it and i know you're busy being a kid in like, but can you see why it stings?
this girl gets visibly uncomfortable when i talk about being gay, but she's home for only two weeks, has a dozen other good friends who wouldn't think to argue with her about racism or feminism or guns the way i do-- and she's been sure i've seen her twice already.
and i like you both, for your different reasons. she makes me feel wanted, even when she's not in town, and you make me feel alive, when you stop by.
but i'm still lonely sometimes and i've hurt myself again thinking about it; we're all full of holes.
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