I sit here at 12:37 am, writing to no one. I think about him and nothing else. I feel the guilt. The pain. And most of all. The sadness. He would say, "Why are you sad? I'm the one with the broken heart." To be honest, that's true. I broke his heart more than once. I wish I could fix it. I could try but... how can you fix another heart when yours is shattered?
I listen to my father snore as the tears run down my rosey cheeks. The headphones hurt my ears, but they are all I have so I deal with the pain just so I can listen to my favorite songs. They keep the tears streaming, but help with the broken heart.
The only thing worse than a broken heart is it being paired with lack of feelings. Lack of emotions. Lack of... thought.
Goosebumps run down my arms as my body shivers from the blasting air conditioning. I know that if he were here, he'd come out and wrap a blanket around me. He'd pull me into bed and hold me close, letting me fall asleep next to him.
My confession: I'm in love with someone.I talk to him. I miss him. I love him. He's not mine. That's my mistake.
