(no subject)
I keep filling this void. With other things, in hopes it will fill up.
And I pretend, no I tell myself, just busy myself, thinking I'm fine about this.
And I ignore it, ignorance is bliss when you ignore your own heart.
But on the inside I'm missing it, and I'm dieing to wish you do too.
So I'll keep filling it, with friends, and school, and plans, and drumline, and everything I could possibly do
to forget about this, get over this, to pretend I am over it.
But in all honesty, there hasn't been a day since it all that I haven't thought and wanted and wished and hoped
and prayed and cried and hated the idea of having it back.
For what? --nothing.
And I pretend, no I tell myself, just busy myself, thinking I'm fine about this.
And I ignore it, ignorance is bliss when you ignore your own heart.
But on the inside I'm missing it, and I'm dieing to wish you do too.
So I'll keep filling it, with friends, and school, and plans, and drumline, and everything I could possibly do
to forget about this, get over this, to pretend I am over it.
But in all honesty, there hasn't been a day since it all that I haven't thought and wanted and wished and hoped
and prayed and cried and hated the idea of having it back.
For what? --nothing.