A letter to the boy who led me on…

hey. 

I don’t even want to text you, but i do want closure.

 I wanted to ask why you couldn’t give me an explanation, or even one word at all, to tell me that you were talking to someone else.

 I wanted to ask why you couldn’t have said you didn’t like me instead of pretending you “wanted to see where it went”. 

i wanted to ask why you wanted to hang out in the first place, after i said i didn’t want to hookup with you. 

I could have known and been over you. But now i can see that it doesn’t even matter why.

 You didn’t even know you hurt me. Or, you just cared so little that it didn’t matter.

 You knew I cared about you. 

I would have done anything for you.

 I cared about you so much that i can’t even dislike you for completely leading me on. 

The truth is, I never knew you. I thought that we were friends and I thought you were different. I thought you were sensitive, careful, genuine.

 but you aren’t. 

You’re just like every other lying, selfish, cocky asshole I have encountered. 

That guy i thought i was close friends with would be decent enough to tell me that he was with someone else.

 I hope you understand how much it fucking hurt that you couldn’t even say ONE word to me. 

But you don’t, because that’s how guys like you are. 

You go around hurting girls playing rigged games and bragging about winning them and have absolutely no idea that you’re hurting girls and the worst part is 

i still hope you’re happy. 

don’t bother responding, please.

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My Mask

Hello, and happy Monday! I wanted to share a little something I began to work on a couple days ago. This is no more than a little rough draft… defiantly could use some work! Here y’all go:
my pretty little mask is the sun

she’s divine 

she catches your eye

my pretty little mask listens 

she teaches 

she lives to learn 

my pretty little mask warms

she smiles at the ground 

she laughs at herself 

my pretty little mask buzzes

she parties on weekdays

she dances in the rain

my pretty little mask captivates

she is a helpless romantic 

she loves to love 

my pretty little mask is confident 

she won’t care what you think 

she shows off 

my pretty little mask is a book 

she tells her story 

she lives an adventure 

my pretty little mask is the sun 

she’s divine

she catches your eye

but my pretty little mask is a stranger to me,

as i am to her. 

Here goes nothing…

When I was a little kid, the people I looked up to the most were talented and established writers. I loved to read books. I loved to find blogs. I loved to think that one day I could be just like the authors. Starting a blog has always been something i’ve contemplated trying. My excuse is always that i’ve never done it before. I didn’t want to be a crappy, mediocre blogger. I wanted to be good. I wanted people to read my work. I wanted to know what the heck I was doing. Then I realized that these ideas make absolutely no sense. I’m going to have to be a bad blogger before I can ever be a good one. I gotta start somewhere.

If anyone actually reads this (which frankly, I don’t even know if anyone will) you should know: My name is Maya, and i’m 16. I love to write, but most of all, I love to make people laugh. If blogging can help me do that, it will be worth it. So here goes nothing! 

Ps. Someone help me because i’m so beyond confused with how all of this works!