I feel too much. I start my hopefulness way too soon. I expect too early. I just wanted this one time, this one single time I meet someone, to work out. Just this once. He made me feel like we had a tomorrow when in reality I don’t think we do in the slightest. I hadn’t flirted with anyone, touched anyone, the way we were that night. Not in a sexual way. Just holding. Just letting that person know you’re there kind of touching. It made me have hope. In his defense, he didn’t know he was dealing with someone made of glass. A fragile being of the universe. I hate that about myself. I wanted to like him. I wanted to know him. But I won’t be given that chance. And it stings. It stings more and more each time. I’m just tired.