I knew it. Naturally, I knew that this would happen.
I was fine, you know. I didn’t see you for an entire month, and I was fine.
But then you come waltzing in with your smile and your voice and your laughter and your eyes. It’s the same dreams again, damn it, the same damn fucking dreams. Every single thought I had about you, every single fruitless wish, collided together and exploded into a huge mess of futures that would never be.
I did absolutely nothing today. I barely ate, I didn’t want to do anything, I wished there was nothing, I wished I was nothing. But the most screwed up thing was that not once - not even once - did I sincerely, wholeheartedly wish that you were nothing.
Who am I kidding, it’s not that I wouldn’t do anything, but because I couldn’t. I want to forget, I want to run away to somewhere far away from here. But what’s the point if you keep showing up? When I lie down and close my eyes, I’ll always see you. When I listen to music, I’ll always hear your name. And when I pick up my pen, I’ll think of you studying with whoever the hell that guy might be
You don’t want me. And I don’t want you.
You don’t want me. And I don’t want you.
You don’t need me. And I -
I don’t need you.
