Well.
It’s been a week now. Things don’t feel better. Worse, if anything.
I pay more attention to things now, so maybe I should thank you. I pick up on implications that I wish I wouldn’t, and I feel myself react. I’m going to out myself soon and it’s going to be your fault. I’m going to ruin things, just like you ruined everything.
I’m tossing in my sleep, trying to shut him up.
Its only been a week.
But knowing he adores me from a distance makes this hard.
And its slow.
And its false.
And its weak.
This emotion, frustrated, confusion.
Will I wake up to a harsh and empty space?
I am just an outsider.
And its hard knowing that’s not how it goes.
And I’m stronger than this.
But what’s one more lesson when the stolen moments are worth living for?
And its hard, and I’m so weak.
There’s nothing to be said now.
But in our silence we’re both aching to speak.
If you pack up your bags and leave here today, I won’t call you a fool.
If you never answer anymore phone calls, I won’t say you’re insane now to run away from it all.
Things were gonna fall apart anyway.
Would it be any easier? Would it ache less inside?
Would this have to be coming apart at the seams?
