★彡 Wanting What You Can’t Have 彡★

I like this guy.

He’s older. Straight.

Not at my school. Not in my world.

But somehow, still in my head. Rent-free. Loud. Permanent.

I don’t think it’s love.

More like a sickness.

Like I caught something from the way he laughs or the way his arms look in that stupid jacket.

And now it’s in my bloodstream. Quiet. Unfixable.

I’d let him ruin me.

Not in a cute, flowers-on-the-floor kind of way.

In the way where I’d follow him around like a shadow.

No questions. No dignity. Just obedience.

And I don’t know if that makes me broken, or just gay.

People say “he’s straight” like that should kill the feeling.

Like logic ever mattered in this.

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

He could ignore me forever and I’d still imagine what his hand would feel like around my throat.

(Emotionally. Mostly.)

I’d still want him to tell me I’m his. Even if he doesn’t mean it. Even if he says it in the same voice he’d use to tell a dog to sit.

I’m not asking for advice.

I’m not looking for pity.

I just want to say it out loud somewhere.

Even if no one reads it.

Even if he never will

(But yall tbh I don’t care, I love it)