Am madsad.
I can't sleep because of this nausea I feel at the top of my stomach. I feel a hole in my chest where my heart is supposed to be and a lump in my throat. I feel like my insides are rotting.
You don't have time for me. You haven't thought to look for me. You don't miss me. And I cant make you. The realization hurts, it carves me hollow. Your life is full of things and you enjoy them one at a time, fill your minutes with them. Im trying to do the same, but its all an act. The world is darker, less vivid, when someone you love doesn't even think about you.
Oh, unless you can do them a favour. Then it's "thank you so much." I want to rip how much you mean to me out of my brain, I want to drain my blood of you, but the last living pocket of my heart still believes that you love me, that I'm overreacting, that this is normal. I'm not even being used. Ive been discarded and i wont admit it.
Whats even the point of admitting it? Then I'll really be alone, without any chance of getting what I want. I'll just wait here, and if you finally come for me, I will drink you like water in a desert, and never tell you how your silence hurt me.
You must know, after all these aeguments. You have to know how this ruins me, right? I just want you to understand and be sorry, to hate to see me sad, to want to make it right, but you won't. If you saw this, you would blame me for it. You would get defensive, you would say that I inhibit you with my foul mood.
Youre right, it is my fault. I let myself fall in love with you and thought my heart was safe with you. I'm rotting here waiting for you to love me, but nobody wants to love something rotten.
You don't have time for me. You haven't thought to look for me. You don't miss me. And I cant make you. The realization hurts, it carves me hollow. Your life is full of things and you enjoy them one at a time, fill your minutes with them. Im trying to do the same, but its all an act. The world is darker, less vivid, when someone you love doesn't even think about you.
Oh, unless you can do them a favour. Then it's "thank you so much." I want to rip how much you mean to me out of my brain, I want to drain my blood of you, but the last living pocket of my heart still believes that you love me, that I'm overreacting, that this is normal. I'm not even being used. Ive been discarded and i wont admit it.
Whats even the point of admitting it? Then I'll really be alone, without any chance of getting what I want. I'll just wait here, and if you finally come for me, I will drink you like water in a desert, and never tell you how your silence hurt me.
You must know, after all these aeguments. You have to know how this ruins me, right? I just want you to understand and be sorry, to hate to see me sad, to want to make it right, but you won't. If you saw this, you would blame me for it. You would get defensive, you would say that I inhibit you with my foul mood.
Youre right, it is my fault. I let myself fall in love with you and thought my heart was safe with you. I'm rotting here waiting for you to love me, but nobody wants to love something rotten.