Isn’t it a strange thing to realise that he has all the answers you’re searching for? We spend so much time wondering what he’s thinking, if he ever thinks about us, we analyse it with the gals until a mountain is truly made out of a molehill… and the thing is, he bloody knows. Allll along. Everything. Prick.
They say men don’t take hints or read minds, but maybe, just maybe he doesn’t need to read our mind, because sometimes the quotes we post on our story after he’s been a complete twat really do say it all. And you know he sees it, helloooo number 7 in my story viewers. Er, not that we’re counting…
The thing is though, when they hold all those answers in their hands, doesn’t it get heavy? Yet they leave, zooming out of our lives with more baggage than Santa before he’s made his first stop on Christmas Eve. And we’re left to deal with the aftermath, creating possible scenarios to fill the closure he took with him when he left.
Or worse still, they stay. Close enough for you to crave him, far enough that emotions barely touch him, and we’re both left there, balancing in limbo land. And they don’t post the quotes, or answer the questions, they give half and take in chunks… and to conclude this dramatic post… What ON EARTH are they ever thinking? Did the lad like me or nah?