Depressed, Horny, Lonely

So…

So, maybe I was walking home and realized that if I were coming home from the other direction I could peek into that coffee shop where the cute girl who flirts with me because it’s her job works and see if she was making coffee today. So, maybe I walked an extra 4 blocks in order to circle around and come back toward my apartment the correct way to look through the coffee shop window. So, maybe I saw that she was working and waved through the window, to which she waved back because she wasn’t busy. So, maybe I didn’t go in even though I had thought of a perfect entrance convo starter of complaining about my ATM mishap as though it had just happened this morning as opposed to three days ago. So, maybe it was because I blanked the second I looked in the café and knew that if I attempted to talk to her it would come out as: “You.. ha… I’m… I don’t know … why I came in here.” So, maybe I had bought soymilk on my extra four block journey in order to look as though I had been on an important expedition as opposed to just a useless circle of city strolling. So, maybe that extra half-gallon of Silk is now staring me in the face every time I open my refrigerator embodying why I’ve been called a pussy so often in my life. So, maybe I found my work schedule that was emailed to me and checked to see if the cute girl I sometimes work with was working today in case I wanted to make another adventure outside searching for rejection. So, maybe I found that she was working and I put on my jacket to go to my place of employment with the sole purpose of flirting with my co-worker. So, maybe I walked in, pretended I just had to pick up my paycheck and while she tried to talk to me I came up with an excuse for having to leave because I was too scared that something offensive was about to come out of my mouth. So, maybe I cried myself to sleep while stroking it. So, what?

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