Confused, but lucky...lucky to be confused...
Why does he have to be so nice? Why does he have to be so sweet? Why does he have to be the one that makes me laugh and smile when things make me want to cry? Why does he text and call and write...why does he have to live away? Why do I have to care? Why do I have to wonder what he is thinking, search his eyes, and lie in his arms like if it was the last moment on Earth, it would be fine because I'm adored. Why do I think I'm adored with him? Why don't I know what's going on? I can't wait for the weekend. I can't wait for the weekend at all. Getting my happy on, my hopes to high, and find the most boring of things absolutely fascinating and fun when he is there.
Powered by ScribeFire.
Powered by ScribeFire.