He sends cryptic messages just so people write back. He plays with peoples emotions without even knowing it. He has an ego the size of America. He ignores you when he feels like it, to keep you coming back. He has a pack of little girl groupies where ever he is. He is fake to the extent that I don't know what's him.
This isn't a story where I hate the guy but end up liking him. It's not a cliché. He's not the jock who's misunderstood or the bully that teaches me about myself. He's not my best friend, my brothers friend or even someone I particular care about. He just gets to me. The things he does, the little games he plays with the people around him –and me-. He's supposed to be the one who I look up too and strive to be like. He's the one who introduces himself first and makes himself seem like the nice guy. Nobody realises that he leaves ten minutes later because he can't stand been around the new kid. I thought he was different, the one who didn't care what people looked like, until this girl came and he was friendly to the point of obsession because she was hot. He didn't even know her name. He's pathetic but so am I.
Looking over old MySpace messages, there's a couple from you. Back when I was the shiny new toy, when I was interesting. I don't get to make that impression again. I wish I could just to see you smile and joke with me again. 'Fake' echoes through my head. But I didn't know.
Then there's a couple after that party. The one where I sleep on you and you made me fight with my best friend because you thought you liked me. Did you really think that thought had never crossed my mind? I made up my mind and didn't notice a difference. Friends, I was happy to settle with that. Unlike you I knew who it would hurt. I hated having to be the mature one, the one who always thinks of everyone else. That was the party when we spent the night together and we ripped the blanket fighting over it and everything got so blurred. We shared the same space and didn't find it weird. I remember rolling on my other side to see you smiling at me. It made me smile. Then everything started to hurt when we went on that walk when a few others. We were the only ones not drunk. I ran and ran up that road, watching the moon shine down on me. I talked about things I wouldn't at any other time. One line you said that night was the only time I'd heard you sound mature. You told me to try my best in school. Funny isn't it how I remember a little phrase like out of the others. I'd forgotten all this until now.
Five months on. I miss things been like that. You been fake meant everything was back to the seemingly happy I cherished. I was happy. All those compliments that made me smile then, make me stare down at the keypad now. What am I supposed to do? Say I miss you, I need you? I don't. This isn't a love letter, I don't love you. I miss what you represent in my life. I miss what you brought into my life. I will see you every Sunday for a while. I will watch you flirt and be fake, be charming like you charmed me and break some poor girls' heart like you did my best friend. You can have their hearts, but you can't have mine.
For honesty's sake I will say I have missed you and wondered what would happened if I did be reckless and kissed you that night. Now where shadows of what we used to be, and things aren't the same. You taught me about Jesus, but didnt see it would be what made me stong. Now I don't need you I only need him. You were always my gray, in this world of black and white. You blurred everything, i didn't know what was wrong or right. Now everything in my world is fading to gray and im finding it hard see whats wrong or right. I blame you. But I'm lying if I don't say I dream about you. Gray painted dreams. But dreams none the less.
AN: I don't know what i think of this. It's 1:30 in the morning, I'm not thinking straight. Review ?