I'd like to say my heart is broken but I don't know if the beating organ inside of me is considerable mine anymore...
I'm sorry, I'm sorry I worry too much, I think too much, I talk too much, but after all, I do all this because I love you too much.
Did the thought never cross your mind?
That while your life was made out of parties, my days were practically filled with thoughts of you. Your smile, your eyes, and your well-being, I didn't care for my own because I thought it would be selfish, I thought that I wasn't as important and that you were just far more worth it, cuz after all, you chased the teenage life while I chased an idea of you, an idea of us, that thinking again, is probably whack, because how could somebody as pretty as you ever want the "fake happiness till you make it", the" fake sunshine" and the "fake perfect girl".
I hope you never look at me, but at the same time I want you to look at me because I'm hanging on a thread where I hope you love me for what I am, but at the same time, I just fear that you might see me the way I see myself every night and every day, the broken girl with no necessity to wake up every morning.
