look what you’ve done.

But I will be in control of myself from now on.

Literally.

I’m totally lost.

The other guy makes it easier for me because at least he lets me know where I stand.

With you, I’m totally lost, totally out of control.

And after all you’ve unknowingly done to me, this last thing doesn’t even measure up. I’ve lost so much more, and it’s not something for which you can pay me back.

You did all the denying here. And, in all fairness to you and with all due respect, denial is apparently something you’re very, VERY good at.

i never used to need this much attention, this much help.

i never used to ask people to call me up when the situation got desperate.

i never used to cry this much.

look what you’ve done.

I’ ve always been right about people.

With you, I allowed myself to be wrong and believed everything you told me about you.

I now f**king regret ever thinking that you were worth it.

You’re not. You’re not. YOU’RE NOT.

I’m tired of drinking in all your lip service.

Shut up and drown nao.

be safe.

i don’t know why i’m holding on.

as to what i’m holding on to, it’s just about every little thing.

the little things count so much, we all understand that.

sometimes, i get an overwhelmingly big piece of the cake; grand gestures they call ‘em. sometimes.

but the little things do it.

i unfortunately pay too much attention to the littlest detail. too much for my own good, i feel.

i just can’t figure out why i keep replaying those little things over and over in my head, why i give to them so much value, why i can’t get enough of them, why i hold on.

oh, universe, make up your mind.

I lie down on the bed and get into the most comfortable position I know.

And then, I start thinking. And waiting.

I know I have to go to sleep because I usually have to get up early.

But I can’t.

I feel that when I finally close my eyes and drift off, I’d be raising my flag and acknowledging that my day had ended.

And it breaks my heart every night to realize that a whole day had just gone by without me seeing you or talking to you, and that a whole day had gone by without you having thought about me.

“That poem was beautiful.”

I was writing about you.

really.

I find it so easy to hate you.

But I don’t.

You break my heart like it’s what you’ve been raised to do. :’(