all the power i give you to drain me is completely and entirely my own fault. i am empty and unfulfilled and fully aware of how i feel after every one of our conversations but i keep on talking and talking and talking to you purely because of how exhilarating the chase is. i head into every interaction knowing exactly how anticlimactic they’re going to turn out to be and yet i continue to let myself be hooked by you simply because i manage to convince myself every single time that it might end differently. that something else might happen other than normal conversation between friends. that i’m living in some stupid fantasy universe where fantasy things happen and that one day, one day it will. something will happen as long as i wait for it, and wait for it, and keep on waiting for that magical utopian ending. it will happen. i keep telling myself it will. you are literally a drug and i hate that i treat you like one. i hate that i use you like this and i hate that i have to. life is dull without you and euphoric with you but it would be completely unbearable if i took you away. you are soul-sucking. you aren’t but you are. i wish i could just treat you like a friend. you don’t deserve this.