i should tell him.
but i can't.
i don't have the words to say it;
don't have the willpower to formulate the sentences
that i know will someday have to spill from my mouth.
in my own mind,
the words sound stupid.
the explanation doesn't make sense and i
know that he wouldn't understand
so i can't tell him.
there must be something
wrong with me to feel this way;
to feel like crying every time i look in his eyes and
imagining my fingers in his hair but remembering that
digusted look on his face every time.
i don't know why i care so much; honestly,
it's his hair.
it's not a big deal.
but it is, somehow.
a/n: I don't know how to end this effectively, so I just won't.