20

I remember when I didn't know you,
before you'd ever made this, a first appearance in writing.
That was better because, though this is something of an ode, you really irritate me.

I multitask a lot now.
I compose lines in my head before I write them,
tasting,
testing.
I stay up later and yawn in the mornings.
In fact, this has nothing to do with you.
In fact, I stay up for someone else,
and I think you know it.
Just like I think you know the only reason I'd write about you
is that you pissed me off again last night.
Just like I think you know the only reason I talk to you is guilt.

You are really, really bad at talking to girls.
I used to have your inexperience, but not of your awkwardness,
and that's one way in which I'm exactly the same.
Even if not for the usual you, you had no chance.

I guess this is a pointless note,
and maybe it's the same ambiguity that has led us to this.

I do not like you.
Please leave me alone.