How I Wish He Loved Me
How I wish he loved me. Overheard conversations. His indifference, his levity. Always a player, play-ah, bitches, beech-as. I know I'm stupid. Don't mind being stupid for him. He knows I'm stupid for him. Takes me for granted. I want to be taken for granted.
When Ali, Casey, and I were in college down in central Illinois, we lived in this great place just a block off campus. It was situated at the top of a hill overlooking the town smack dab in the middle of Greek Row, snuggled between the Beta and SAE houses—a modest, three-bedroom house with a front porch and back patio, and yard that made it ideal for barbecues and other themed or not themed parties.