I showed you my heart and all you could do was evaluate it. all you do is evaluate it. you never bother to look at it, really look and say “wow, I get it. I understand and I see you.” you never once utter the word beautiful, never. and maybe it’s because I’m not beautiful to you at all; maybe I’ll just stop trying because I need someone who sees me, who really sees me and doesn’t hesitate to say, “wow, you’re beautiful.” I can’t just keep giving you my heart on a plate and all you do is try and read it like a book. analyse it like a critic. no, I hate it and I’m tired. I’m tired of not being good enough for you.

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