the fuckboy

Let me tell you about a time. A time when I fell in love with a boy who had no sincere intentions but to play with my heart strings. A boy who strung me along, my feelings circulating him like the wind growing stronger and stronger.

It was late August where we met, and soon began to talk. Late night conversations lasting 6 hours. When together, time was still. Endless. My love for him was growing, as a cadence progression played in largo.

Hitting a peak of our relationship, I asked him, “what direction are we headed?” Am I to expect us to become official? Scared by the question (as if i asked him to marry me), he did not respond. He did respond with a ray of silence for a number of days. I was confused, how could I not have been?

One night we decided to spend time together. We talked and talked as usual. And then, he gave me a kiss. Mind you, this was the second kiss I’ve ever had in my whole life. I know, I know I’m old school. I was sprung. I was even more spring then a spring stretched to its full capacity trying to release its tension in its wires.

Better yet, I was in love. I thought I found the one, I thought he was perfect for me. I don’t blame myself for feeing this way because it really was perfect. The amazing conversations, when we were together time was just an entity. This was the pinnacle of the relationship. Because it went from a major scale resolving into a minor one.

He was tired of me. It was as if I was a bag being tossed and turned in a truck. Disrespected to a high degree, I was of no value in his life anymore for no reason. I repeat, no APPARENT reason. Everything was fine and dandy until he bolted a stop sign. He left me and moved on to the next woman to dance with her heart.

And truth be told, yes, I fell in love but I am more in love with myself than to deal with that.

- never settle for less