Well dammit.

See, it's interesting, because this evening, I was gonna let you off the hook. I'm not meant for long distance shit, and I've told every nigga I've ever messed with before that he couldn't expect a faithful relationship from me, with us living in two entirely different states & shit. I need too much attention. Attention that you can't give. And that shit is so obvious, like honestly, I don't even know why I was trying to pretend like it would be any different with you. That's a testament to how much I adore you. Not only would it be hard as hell for me, because of the distance, and my natural tendency to flirt, coupled with my need to be close to people, but it wouldn't even occur to you to make it easier for me, to even remind me of your presence in your life. You would just keep doing you and expect me to sit around and wait. Which would be fine, if it wasn't long distance, but since it is, that's the easiest way to get your ass cheated on.

And I'm seeing this, as clear as day I'm seeing that this is exactly the way it's gonna go. So I was gonna let you off the hook. Let's just be friends. That way, you won't feel obligated to speak to me. That way, I won't be obligated to not flirt with other people. That way, I can keep you in my life, and you can keep me in yours, but on a less demanding basis, and if we ever meet, well we can take it from there, on good terms. That's what I was going to do tonight.

You were at a party when I got off work. I asked you to hit me up when you got home. It was a win/win, cus it gave me time to figure out how in the fuck I was gonna word this shit in the first place. I'd have liked it to sound more logical and rational, and less bitchy and temper tantrum-ish, which is what it's coming off as now, I'm sure.

You're home now. But you haven't hit me up. Not through any of the multiple forms of communication we have. I know you're home, 'cause you're on twitter, tinychatting with your lil buddies. Great. Why won't I just hit you up? Why should I? You obviously don't want to speak to me, or you would, so nevermind. You go do you. That's fine.

And that hook I was going to let you off of? Well, it's apparent you never gave a shit about the hook anyway, so let's just pretend that bitch was never even there, how bout that?

The cold part is, by the time you do get around to hitting me up, I'ma pretend like I don't even feel like this. Ain't that bout a gotdamn bitch?