I don't understand how you can piss me off so much but still get me.
Everyone's got pieces of their life that no one knows about, I myself have quite a few; but no one, repeat, no one has got quite as much as you. I could fill so many hours imagining how they look, those little empty spaces that I want to overlook. I feel as if I would understand why you think the way you do, if I had a better notion of with what your time is filled. But I have no idea, and you make no attempts, so I'm left here simply wondering, what secrets you have left.