there’s this thing where I get really into a guy and I think that if it ends I’ll curl up in a ball and die.
and then it ends.
and I don’t die.
two weeks later, I end up chasing another car. different color. same level of oh-em-gee preteen butterflies.
I am so lame. see I can sit here and observe all this happening, and I still think this is the exception. EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I’m not a freakin’ teenager. I am an adult. so they tell me.