You have one label-- f*ck boy. That's how everyone sees you and maybe how you started to see yourself. At one point I was thinking the same thing. You say that I don't know you but you've never been more wrong.
Maybe I don't know things like your favorite color or food, but I know the other things. The things that you really have to look at someone and see. At first, maybe you just wanted the sex, someone to see when you felt like it then has nothing more. When you didn't get that you just disappeared. Then you saw what you were missing out on, wanting it back.
That's when it started the game, cat and mouse, the distraction we were for one another.
That's when I started to see you noticing that we're one in the same. The ambition and confidence we both had drew us together at first and the fact that we could easily play one another. Then you started saying how you'd be there to dance with me when no one would, picking me up on my worst nights and taking care of me.
When my feelings were hurt you let me rant and gave me the advice to make things better, even when it would never help you. You were more than that persona everyone saw then I saw you were, a friend.
My drunk calls to you early in the morning would last until I was tired and you knew I was safe in bed. The nights I couldn't walk you took me to your place and gave me the bed. At the parties, you always made sure I was looked after and when my flirtations happened you never took advantage.
All of that showed who you really were, someone who had more than enough chances to take advantage but didn't.
Then it happened, the worse thing that could have. When no one understood, you gave me what I needed-- the distraction. You were just there because you knew that was all I needed, and finally, it started coming out the raw emotion.
Then you did the worse you could-- you yanked away.
You left and tried to make me see the bad but I couldn't and still refuse to, because you opened up you showed me. In the end maybe you think I don't know you but I do and always will.