If i’m honest i know i’m vulnerable.
I want love. i want to talk, to a boy, who, at the very least will reply to my messages.
I know I’m not that teenage girl anymore. I know.
But part of me still feels like her.
Part of me still feels like I am asking him, am i lovely? do you value me?
And i know he would, if i was her. that girl.
But I’m not. I’m me.
And he doesn’t value, me.
I won’t be the one he chooses.
I know i don’t want to be.
My sisters questioned me, asking if our conversations are mostly about him. And I said yes, they are. And they’ve always been. He asks questions about the things he’s interested in, I suppose. I know he’s not interested in me. I know, because I pay attention to people. And I suppose this part of him hasn’t changed in ten years. I told him that people make time for the things they care about. I make time to reply to people on time, because that’s who I am. He can take days to reply to me, because that’s who he is. because he doesn’t value me.
I know all this, and I know it won’t hurt me the way it did back then. I’m tempted to tell him that I really liked him then. My sister says I was too safe for him. He’s always going for the girls who are, not good for him, for lack of a better phrase. I don’t want to judge him. I don’t know why he’s telling me all these things, but i’ll listen, I guess.
I value me though.
And maybe that means pressing pause on the conversation.