After every stab to the heart, you tell yourself that you're never going to hope again. You're never going to wish again. A man is never going to be the first thing on your mind when you wake up and the last thing on it before you go to sleep... again. It just won't happen. You're going to learn from your mistakes.
But no.
Once again, he comes galloping into your heart on his white horse of compliments and witty humor. He knows all your buttons and pushes each and every one to program you right back into falling in love.
You said you'd never fall again. You'd been crushed, chewed and spat out time and time again by... love. You made a promise to yourself to never put yourself through that pain. But, alas, here you are again... waiting for another phone call, reminiscing on a past joke and hoping... hoping.
It's that hope that fucks you up. It's that hope that consumes you up inside. It's that hope of finally being accepted but that painful knowledge that you're not quite good enough. And you never will be.
But still, you hope. You hope because with that look in his eyes and those butterflies in your stomach, so much can go wrong but so much can feel right. Oh so right...
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