Tomorrow is that made up holiday of luv. Yucky touchy feeling lovey dovey day. If I’m going ever let that fat girl in me eat to her heart’s explosion – best effing day for chocolate hands down.
Well this year, my heart is broken. He got married. He got married to a pretty girl. He got married to a pretty girl who seems effing nice and that I could probably like if I ever knew her. But noooooooo. I’ll probably never meet her. But if I’m being honest, I’ve never even met him either.
Hahahaha. You should see your own face. Now I’ve confused you like only a psycho stalker fangirl can.
I’m talking about my celebrity crush. Rat ba$tard went out and got a life of his own without waiting for me to 1) get younger, 2) get thinner, 3) move 1048 miles, 4) ‘accidentally’ meet, 5) allow him to realize I’m not like all the other girls, 6) fall hopelessly in love with me.
And no, you don’t get to know his name. It would ruin my meet-cute moment, which can still happen, if he has google alerts about himself set up and my name appears. It would be awkward.
So when you’re loving it up tomorrow, think of me and all other girls out there with imaginary boyfriends and broken hearts because they’ve moved on from my dreams to some other girl’s reality.