It burdens you when i say i miss you,
I know.
That's why i never say it.
I'm open like a magazine, you'll read me in a heart beat.
To know how much i tried to restrain myself from talking to you, so you won't feel as if im suffocating you, distracting you, intoxicating you. To know how much i am hurting everytime you don't have time for me because you were busy. To know how much it kills me to think that you weren't busy but just wont talk to me of have met someone better.
I'm not good enough for you, nor will i ever be. And that shit fucking hurt me
