I read my last poem to my cousin and my brother and they busted out laughing.
Apparently I’m obsessed.
Not crazy, nobody said I was crazy, but I clearly devote a lot of time and energy to the one topic of this guy and all things heart related, and I should probably stop.
My brother started playing with a plastic toy dinosaur, opening and shutting its mouth in time with my words as I read my poem.
My cousin innocently said that my brother was the only one making fun of me, and my poem wouldn’t have been so humorous if she didn’t know who it was about.
I folded up my printed copy of my poem and returned it to my room, vowing to never read another one to them again, and to never write another poem about any of my crushes that I’ve told them about again.
Sorry for my sappy poetry. Hope it’s not all hilariously ridiculous.
At least I have a job. There’s one successful thing I’ve got going for me.