i hate the fact that you seem so disinterested and unbothered when i stopped reaching out to you—maybe you had your reasons. maybe you simply never liked me and i'm the one to blame for pushing myself to you, but i can't believe that you don't even care despite those nights i spent with you. then again, i'm the one who willingly obeyed and i let myself get comfortable despite no clarity on what you feel towards me. i'll be left here, haunted by your simple gestures—crying over the feelings you made me feel even if it wasn't real.