hockey, faggotry, mental illness

you make me want to—

you don’t have to respond to this right away...

or at all, if you don’t want to. you don’t need to.

okay.

so.

i really, really like you. like, like like.

you make me want to stop being a slut.

you make me want to slow down.

you make me want to settle.

and i haven’t cared about anyone like that in a long time, i haven’t felt that way about someone in a long time,

and honestly, it’s scary.

i want to be the one to go on dates with you.

i want to be the one who fixes your tie.

the one who appreciates your cooking,

...and the one you hold in your arms after a long day.

i know you always run away from parties—

well, the ones that i drag you to, anyways—

but i wish you’d take me with you when you leave.

you said that i’m stronger after survived

a man using me as a sex toy,

to be thrown away after—

but i’m unsure about that.

i don’t know if i’m stronger,

i honestly feel more vulnerable—

but somehow, safer with you.

again, felix, you don’t have to say anything right now.

or anything at all.

this confession was more about me

not being able to keep a secret.

i wear my heart on my sleeve.

i’m dramatic.

you know this.

and while i can’t keep secrets,

i can keep promises.

...

good night.

i’ll be in my room.