Sometimes…

I wish I was not the bad guy, every fight ends up being my fault. Since when is this how a relationship goes. I get it I have a temper, but there is a reason that I get mad, to the point where yelling seems like my only option, maybe if he could be helpful, and try to make my life a little easier, but he doesn’t. Never has. Because my texting sucks, I have the short fuse, I am the selfish one, I don’t get his humor—even though his humor is all condescending and rude, but its my fault that I find offensive things offending. Because I am always the bad guy, the screw up, the one who doesn’t love the other person more, because thats me. I am the one who always calls right back after a fight, I always apologize when I don’t feel like I have done a damn things wrong, I am the one buying hundreds of dollars of new bras and underwear to make sure when I see him again, he likes what he sees. I am the bad guy, who is about to become the baddest of all guys and leave the good guy behind and try to find someone who can be the bad guy with me.