Who are you?
Who am I?
Who are we and most importantly, what the fuck are we exactly?! 'Cause one thing is for sure: I'm sick and tired of this waiting, of this game you play, of this fucking situation!
Are you a man of some other kind of strange animal with enhanced breathing and a beating heart in a tin chest?!
Are you some kind of breathing humanoid or a real person, not only a status and a green dot that shows you're online whenever I dare to turn on my PC?!
If yes, move your fucking ass right here and tell me something in person! I'm tired of talking through million of open windows, tired of refreshing the page every two minutes in case you decided to finally press Enter and sent those monosyllabic answers of yours, tired of searching you on the online page, tired of waiting for you to finally grow a pair and tell me something without me pushing you from behind.
Really now, darling, what exactly are you? Please find some time to explain this to me, 'cause I'd be damned if I understand!
You're not my only friend, I hope you know that. So don't act so fucking cold with me, giving me the cold shoulder just to gain more attention, 'cause it won't work! You're just a pinch of salt when I have the fucking Almighty Mount of Salt. You're annoying the crap out of me, you know that?! No, I do love you and all, I do like to see you from time to time, to eat your ice-cream and then give you the innocent face you hate so badly, to pour water on your face while you're still away in your Dreamland. I do love how we waste time counting stars, naming butterflies, thinking of winter and crying for summer with the first snow. I freakin' adore the way you snore and grind your teeth, the way you throw pillows at me from across the room, the way you serenade me with your childish and flowery guitar, the way you hate pink to guts, the way you pick fights for every stupid thing I do only to pinch my cheeks until they turn bright red.
I do, I do.
But then you have those mood swings and I find you crying at night or you suddenly leave the chat room,
I still remember that one night when you showed me your wrist and told me you'd love to see it cut open. Are those blue threads really that interesting to you? 'Cause here, take a good look at mines and then give them back to me! I've been there, alright? I've done all that and I'm not ashamed. I was THIS fucking close from never coming back again. And it was you who shook me back to live with those stupid and annoying as a bitch noises of you continuously hitting the Enter key. I still remember yelling at you "Are you fucking crazy or what?! Someone's trying to have a good death here, you know?!" And you simply turned on your web camera and showed me that insanely pink stuffed toy "Look what I brought for you!". Really, it took me two days and a half, two planes, hitchhiking from Toulouse to Paris, a bus and a couple of steps to knock you off your chair with just one hit and burn that Goddamn pink toy. Really now, I haven't seen something as ugly as that!
But summer's gone and look at me feeling all unsure and uneasy for some odd reason. It's no longer how it used to be. I can feel it. You're too hot to handle with your leather jacket and black eyeliner you started wearing for all the stupid and foolish reasons in the whole world, no shirt to cover you white skin (really, you should try your my foundation or something from now and then), while I on the other side am pitiful like a wet dog that's waiting for the master that has abandoned him. You're like a hot biker that gets all the girls, while I'm the awkward nerd who never get any attention (nerd, not wallflower, dumbass!). You're a genius that words with facts and numbers while I'm the stupid editor that uses words that can't really reach your words. And as much as I wish I could get into your world, that I could speak 1-4-3, it's like trying to have a SRS when I'm not that sure I can be a male with all this feminine thoughts swarming inside my head.
Summer was our season.
Summer is our one and only season, right? And now, like trees and flowers, we're fucking withering under the autumnal sun.
What a shame, darling, what a shame, really! I even pulled my nuts in the spotlight to tell you I like you and now it's over? So, I'm asking you: who the fuck are you and what the fuck are we at this very point? 'Cause I think I'm getting sexually frustrated while waiting for you to open your eyes and see that I haven't got a boyfriend because of you, that I changed my hair style because of you, that I'm wearing a sugar plum eyeliner with all those dazzling sparkly sparks that make my eyes sting whenever I get out of the house, that I'm actually shaving my legs so that I won't look like freakin' King Kong in front of you.
Well, now that you're no longer online, I hope you go to Hell and stay there until I change my mind! Which will be, let me check my agenda for a sec, NEVER!
It's too bad that I have to vent myself like this just because you're a freakin' introvert when it comes to using real words and not stupid emoticons. But you talked to me all summer, didn't you? And in the end, nothing last forever, isn't that so? I think that's what GD taught us recently... whatever! Maybe once spring will met your icy heart you'll come to realize that we were made for each other. Until then, I'll just have to lock my sexy ass and face away like Rapunzel locked her golden hair in a tower... talking of women's problem, at least keep your Captain Winky in his ship, alright? Don't let him enter strange lagoons or dark caves or I'll hunt him down with a butcher's knife, ok? Alright! Glad to have that straight!
And despite you being my favourite person in the whole world, dude,
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