tiesha. (con't): I admit that I’m a pathological liar. I admit that I’m not even supposed to be worth a single crumb you give me. Because I was always shitty to you. And now I want more, which is preposterous to consider, right? But that’s the difference. I want more. I don’t actually expect more. I just desperately, so desperately, want more. To the point that it’s become a need. To confide in someone, no matter who that is. What made you rethink the words you told me? What made you cut me off when you were the one who made it seem like you were ready to continue, no matter what it entailed? When I tried to break things off, you had to egg things on by basically telling me I could finally be myself with you. Didn’t you see that I was scared to be? I was scared that if I didn’t let go of that hope by the time I started middle school, I’d still be holding on. What made me come back over and over again was your words. They lit a new purpose to my being. They made me believe in others.