A/N: Unedited. Kind of frightening for me, in that regard. Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent, but every fucked up feeling is true.
Dear Selfish Boy,
You are an asshole. The day I called you this, you smiled at me. Maybe you thought I was kidding, or that it was "cute" that I was trying to stand up to you. And the fucked up thing about it is that when I saw your smile, I felt my stomach do flip-flops.
If I over-analyze this, I can narrow it down to one of a few things being the cause. It's no secret that you're attractive in your own right. It could just be a natural thing. Like a bad allergic reaction. Maybe I was just nervous, because I was stressed. It's true that I'm not a big fan of confrontation. Or maybe I'm trying to convince myself that these could be the only reasons because, however shallow they may be, the only other option is far worse.
It could be that, not only do I find you attractive, but I like you.
I like your stupid hair, and your cocky attitude, and the way you look at me like I'm diseased. And how fucked up is that?
Maybe I like that you scare me just a little bit; that feeling this way makes me afraid of myself, and how twisted I could actually be. Maybe I like how your kisses sear my flesh in the most pleasant way hate can manage...
I think maybe I like how you see me, and aren't afraid of what you see. How you don't hide anything, this strange openness that has come from being the best of enemies. The honesty we share in being together, but apart.
I'm fucked up. So are you. And we hate what we are, so we hate each other. We hurt one another in the best way we know how, with bruised lips and unkind words. With the fury we've bottled up and saved for ourselves.
You are an asshole. The day I called you this, you smiled at me.
And I'll never forget the floor dropping out from under me... I smiled back.
with anything but love,