I’d love to keep thinking the way I do.
About how you’re beautiful and perfectly perfect. But that isn’t fair. I need to be disillusioned sometime, thankfully now and not later before I had it ingrained in my head. I put you on a pedestal and made you out to be some goddess of goodness who would never lie, cheat, or sell herself short. Truthfully, I’d be hypocritically lying myself if I didn’t say I wasn’t disappointed, because I am. Not to say I think less of you, but more so I wish you made smarter decisions and valued yourself as much as I did. At least now I know you’re human, that you make mistakes, that I would be wrong to expect things of you. I wish you’d be a little more honest though. I now know you’re not all that is good in the world, but you should come out and admit it too.
I’d rather you be honest about being evil instead of pretending to be something you are not.
Either way, I’ve told you this in person already.. But it always seems to come together better in writing. Why is that..?