More and more I feel very much stupid as a whole. You know how hard it is to try to be unreadable so people don't know what you're thinking all the time, can't use anything against you?

You're not as nonchalant as I thought. Not as shallow. It makes you so much more dangerous, makes me vulnerable. I feel like an idiot when you look at me like that, forcing me to constantly be at a loss for words. The gazes were never empty, they were searching, picking, so you could sit back and wait for me to react, and use my responses against me.

I don't know who I want to punch more right now. Me or you.

Me because I'm stupid, that much is apparent. I obviously never learn because I am always too induced with my own delusional thoughts that it'll get better, clearer.
You because..well look here, you're not as great as you think you are you conceited ill mannered bastard. 

I am so intensely furious with you and ultimately myself but I can never prevent this steady onslaught of longing. For you. My weakness I think, is that I tend to look out for that special charm, the little quirk that's so appealing yet mysteriously beautiful. However, people have always made me look like an idiot because they have all used that particular thing to their advantage, used it to charm others because they're so aware of what they have. You know, like what they say, "you think someone treats you in such a way that makes you feel special but then you realize they treat everyone that way." This is why I've never felt like I belong you know.

Ugh omg I am so confused as to what to feel right now ok. Why do I pretend and why do you pretend? Oh you  shrewed, sly, manipulative conniving beautiful creature I want to hit you so hard but ugh. Nothing I am saying makes sense honestly, there is no order in this I am just writing what comes to mind thus a complete tirade I apologize although it is MY blog anyway.

Only you can make my hands shake so much when you tell me we should sit and talk. Make me quiver with trepidation, hope and a tinge of annoyance when you look right at me with those beautiful brown eyes of yours and say, “hey, how come you act like you don’t know me?”

You're a cunning one. One day the tables will be turned you mark my words.