I Have to Tell Her That I Love Her

"I love you," I said to her.

"Oh.  See what you've done?  Now I have to tell you that I love you too.  What did you do that for?"

"Not so that you would say it back to me.  You don't have to say it back.  Anyway, I gotta go.  Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up and started doing something.  I scrolled through some pages online, and then I started writing in my blog or whatever the fuck I usually do, when I'm not really doing anything.  Sometimes I like not really doing anything.

I found a picture of her.

I just looked at it and loved trying to memorize it.  She is so beautiful, and I thought about that for a while.  That's really cool that she looks so good to me, I thought.

And then I had shitty thoughts.

If she got married, I thought, I would definitely wait for her to get divorced or for her husband to die, and then I would hit on her again.  I wonder if she really knows that I try to hit on her sometimes.  I wonder if she likes me at all.

I thought, if I ever marry someone else, and she marries someone else, I'd divorce my wife, as soon as she wasn't married any more.  I would totally do that for her.  But if I married her, I would never want to divorce her.

That's pretty shitty.  Don't you think?

I'm just going to keep looking at how beautiful she is.  I'll probably tell her I love her.  I have to tell her that I love her.

I feel like love can be a mean thing sometimes, for some reason.