I miss when it was just us. now you're so obsessed with that thing I can barely enjoy it and you haven't looked my way in months while you're putting endless love into complete strangers. sometimes I hate you for it
I don't wanna admit it, but sometimes I hope and pray for a reason to pack my bags and leave you, and sometimes I hope and pray for an ounce of attention so I can justify staying.
I can't decide if I want my space because just the thought of you makes me sick some days or want more attention because you have never cared about anyone less than me
please sit next to me, but keep just enough distance, and stay quiet. I'll never admit how much I need you. I'll never admit how much you've genuinely upset me.
