I was starting to think you didn't miss me and hadn't cared to see how I was. You do though as proven today.
We actually had a full blown conversation about everything, or at least as much as we could in 2 hours. It was enough though to make me feel like the person I was before I moved back here.
Don't worry you don't have to understand, you just have to keep texting and I promise you can make me smile any day.
But that's not the problem. I don't even know if there is a problem. All I know is that when you said you missed me butterflies bursted in my stomach, and my heart beat sped up, You made me hope. You gave me hope, and that's a bad thing.
For me hope means maybe. It means late-nights thinking if there's a possibility you like me. Hope means crying because I think you don't. Hope means dying inside and hurting myself trying to figure out if you care. If you still love me like I love you.
Basically, hope for me leads to utter disappointment and I don't think I can handle anymore disappointment.
I don't know what it is with you, but I don't know if I"ll ever be able to move on from you. Should I want to? 'Cause if so--if so--I can't.
I don't want to.
-Remember me the once loved ; )
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts Of the Once Loved
Non-Fiction"Even in the light my dark mind will always surround you, because you saved me from myself. Because even while everyone else was too busy with their own lives you were there every step of the way not knowing what I was feeling. Not knowing what I wa...
