But you were fucking that girl nextdoor...

Well here's the thing: you're one of the few idealized thoughts of mine that I'm glad I didn't act on. Because you wouldn't deserve it. Because you're an idiot. Because my thoughts were, as usual, way prettier than what actually happened. Because you act older that you really are and in reality you're you're so full of shit andnot half the man you think you are. Because you suck. You're lame and I hate you and... well, I might have loved you.

Yes, I'm still sort of not over it and I think we shouldn't have seen each other again. On second thought, yeah we should have and I'm glad that we did... That way, I don't have to wonder "what if...?" for the rest of my life. That way, I can know for sure how lame you are and still miss holding hands with you in the park while I froze to death in my mini-skirt just because I wanted to look and feel pretty despite the well-known awful weather. Yeah, I wanted more. Yeah, I'd spent hours planning my outfit because I wanted it to be functional and appropriate for what I wanted you to think and do to me. Yeah, you missed out. Once again, because you suck.

You are not in any way the traveling soldier you see yourself as, with a girl in every corner of the world and lots of clever remarks said in an irresistible accent. What you really are, is lame. I picked you, don't get THAT wrong. And I only did so because you were what everyone was after and I just had to prove (to myself, to the world?) that I could. And I did. And now you're not that irresistible anymore. I can see right through your I'm-so-hot-but-I-couldn't-care-less clothes and your sarcasm and your oh-so-witty comments about the world.

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Lily Allen is right about you people.

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