got the 7 of wands. getting so many 7's. i'm a 7. a chariot. 7 of wands feels like when people say a guy will need a stick to keep the girls away. there's so many of them and one of him. but he has the upper hand. upper ground. stiff upper lip. he can beat them down. he has the power. he will win. he is a winner. but that's the opposite of me. i wore my red troye sivan briefs to feel a little cheeky like an aussie twink. the same confidence as in the back of the kindergarten class i pretended to be a principal observing. anything to not think about my feet so hot and wet in snow boots in summer. anything to not be a little kid. or how i still pretend to be the boyfriend of every friend i've had. always knew i could be a better boyfriend then just did it. till the bottom falls out. perhaps better because i was privy to the girl secrets. am i wrong to step in with my privileged knowledge like that? they must see it in the cards and letters and gifts and calls and texts. afterall, their boyfriends do. i think every guy who dated any one of my friends should thank me for shouldering all the romance so they could easily get off. i primed her just for you; a thank you would be nice. but instead it's always been resentment. because i now know they saw i was in the sideline waiting. but i wasn't. not really. i was only faking. play pretend. i couldn't get off the bench if i tried. i'm tied down in my fear of anything real. fear of a solid no. i stay safe and secure in playing the part from afar. i'm probably in the wrong. and i worry all the time. the bottom of my life will fall out. one text and there goes my whole life.
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