I lost the chance once to go for it. That's alright.
And I lost another chance, but that's okay. Because it's not anybody's fault and I only have my fucking self to blame. Who else to blame, right? I knew I would be expecting the same results so well, I wouldn't mind it so much.
Then, I realized you knew about it.
And you didn't want to tell me and you chose to tell somebody else.
So, what am I to you? Not "who", but "what"?
I hate myself.
I hate my awkwardness.
I am so socially awkward, it often gets me into bigger and worse situations.
Today, just now, and now.
I honestly don't care if your explanation is "Oh, I didn't want you to be disappointed." ... You mean if you waited it out to tell me, it'd cushion the pain? Don't bother telling me anymore things from now onwards then. It'd cushion all the pain in the world since I'm such a fragile little soul, right?
I do not want to be the last to know, the one having to find out for myself.