it feels like none of this is real;
Maybe I don’t seem to be sad enough. Everyone’s telling me that I seem fine. But I think about him every day. Our texts are infrequent, and that’s okay. It’s supposed to be okay. I can’t tell everyone that every little thing reminds me of him, can I? Not after everyone says You have to move on, you have to move on. So I try to be glad that at least, we’re still friends. But I get told that I moved on really quickly. But I can’t tell them how much I still think of him.
Maybe it helps that we talk every day. Do you hurt? He would deny. A part of me wants to believe it, but another part tells me that it’s all to help me. But I continue them because…it helps. The honest phone calls that happened all 520 days while we were together. Talking with him calms me down. Even if it’s not the same.
It’s strange to me that when something shared by two is ended, it is exposed for all to see and judge. You’re moving on too fast, too slow. You don’t treasure him enough, you think of him too much. When will it ever be just right? I suppose I don’t have to care about everyone around me. No, that’s not true. My actions will always be determined by others. Nothing feels like it’s mine.
And you. It’s so sad that timing’s gone all bad. Perhaps I’ll accept. Perhaps I’ll come to realise you’re not who I’m looking for. But if that happens, I…I don’t know. You’ve been broken and compared to so many times that I don’t want to add on to the hurt. I wouldn’t be able to break it to you, if that happens. If you lose interest? Then I guess, I wouldn’t be able to hurt you that way, and it’ll all be a pity.
Everything feels like a horrible dream I can’t wake from. I can stand in a crowd and feel alone. Nothing feels real anymore.
Maybe it helps that we talk every day. Do you hurt? He would deny. A part of me wants to believe it, but another part tells me that it’s all to help me. But I continue them because…it helps. The honest phone calls that happened all 520 days while we were together. Talking with him calms me down. Even if it’s not the same.
It’s strange to me that when something shared by two is ended, it is exposed for all to see and judge. You’re moving on too fast, too slow. You don’t treasure him enough, you think of him too much. When will it ever be just right? I suppose I don’t have to care about everyone around me. No, that’s not true. My actions will always be determined by others. Nothing feels like it’s mine.
And you. It’s so sad that timing’s gone all bad. Perhaps I’ll accept. Perhaps I’ll come to realise you’re not who I’m looking for. But if that happens, I…I don’t know. You’ve been broken and compared to so many times that I don’t want to add on to the hurt. I wouldn’t be able to break it to you, if that happens. If you lose interest? Then I guess, I wouldn’t be able to hurt you that way, and it’ll all be a pity.
Everything feels like a horrible dream I can’t wake from. I can stand in a crowd and feel alone. Nothing feels real anymore.