Dear new boy in my life,
Okay, listen up. Liking you has been something of a surprise to me. Obviously, you're not my usual type and obviously, I'm not your's, as you flat-out told me so. But what the hell does "dating" mean to you? We're making out one night while I'm being told that I "am so cute, have an amazing personality," etc. with more shit attached -- and the next I'm being ignored despite the fact I spend half the day in classes with you. Oh, unless you count that time you asked me to borrow a pen.
So thanks for "forgetting" to tell me you were leaving all weekend. If you'd shown just one ounce of melancholy over the fact that you weren't going to be able to hang out with me for three days, my spirits would be higher. As for right now, they're in the fucking gutter because I can't figure out if you like me or not. Blame it on the fact that your fingers are fucking attached to your damn phone, and I'm 99% sure that you're texting a million other girls at the same time.
If you don't text ME sometime today, I'm going to rip off your testicles one by one.