Times like this that I’m stuck at home with no school works to stress me out, no deadlines to beat or just minor house chores to tweak at least, I have this tendency to float away.
Float away and perhaps think of you.
I am trying to figure out what happened. It was the worst. I ended something that haven’t even started yet, I kept on asking myself if it was really what I wanted, or maybe what I needed. I don’t know. But surely, I’m not lost.
You kept on bombarding me with confusion, and it’s as if you wanted me to make the first move. It’s not an issue of pride, either. It’s the fear of expecting too much that keeps me away. And I waited, I swear I waited for you to do something about it. Yes, you. As much as I’ve been trying to do it myself, I just can’t.
I needed you. But I guess you never needed me back.
It was really sad. Every single time I try to merely justify everything— what happened, what I did, what you did, how things fell into the wrong places— it felt literally stupid. They were all my decisions, just like what I’ve planned.
And yet I’m here. still hoping it’s you I’m with every fucking minute of my life.