Wishy-washy

I wish you were bold enough to insult me about my favorite television shows and songs, why they reflect my poor taste and why I should feel insecure about myself. I wish you were confident enough to tell me that I sometimes suck, and that you know I won’t get offended anyway because it’s you. I wish you were more comfortable in saying things that would break the great wall of all things awkward.

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I wish I had the right to tell you that you look like an absolute moron in your photos. I wish I could tell you that sometimes your opinions make me cringe. I wish I could have the authority to tell you not to wear this shirt, or those shoes, or those positively annoying hipster glasses because they are a huge injustice to everything pretty about you.

I wish you don’t think of me as someone who just likes you. I thought you like me, too, but it’s just me giving myself more credit that what I actually deserve. I wish you would understand the psychology of the pathetic. I wish you knew everything. I wish I knew everything.

I wish I were more than silent thoughts and wishful thinking. I wish I were close enough to even let you know about the things I wish were real.

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