This is what I don’t get - Women are impure because males have touched them. Who’s the dirty one here?
Jack Dawson… Penniless artist who wins a ticket onto Titanic in 1912, attends a first class dinner, develops a taste for the finer things in life, pockets the Heart of the Ocean, survives the sinking, pawns the diamond, spends the following ten years building his wealth and in 1922 moves to West Egg as Jay Gatsby… Millionaire with a shady past and fear of swimming pools.
What is wrong with you? Exactly what is it that is so fundamentally wrong with you, that you think making me feel bad about myself is fun? I don’t want to play games with you. I hate it when you’re mean to me. Just because you “make up for it” with romantic words and promises and gifts does not make “switching it up and being a dick” okay. You are not “keeping it interesting” when you tell me that I’m the only one, that you have a girlfriend (jk! Or am I?), or when you beg me to be with you. It makes me sad when you don’t text me. It hurts my feelings when you criticize what I’m wearing. It drives me up the fucking wall when you spend one day telling me that all you want is me, and the next you refuse to even glance my way. You’re a child. And I’m the stupid girl who falls for it. You are the worst.