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by starlite_33

by starlite_33

Saying I miss you feels like puking.

Growing up I love and when I do, I love hard.

A weak heart like mine got easily attached.

I think I annoyed so many people because of it.

I live in a house that isn't mine.

Yet somehow, I don't miss what's actually mine.

I hear I miss you through the phone.

I take time to answer.

I hesitate to say it back knowing my tongue doesn't want to handle the weight of the lie.

Knowing I have no issues being honest.

I don't miss you.

I said that to my brother.

I don't miss anyone.

I added.

It's true.

I text not that I want to.

I have to.

It's the right way.

It's an instinctive thing everyone who leaves home does right?

I mean that's my family I should call and text.

I don't. I do. I do but I don't.

I follow what they imagine.

I act out the script they wrote.

I live their expectations.

It's not really me.

It's a character I made just for them.

So, they don't lose hope.