how pathetic it feels. to wish someone misses you the way you miss them. you fill your minutes-hours-days with this noise to drown out their memory. you listen to podcasts and try new hobbies and write new poetry. you take up yoga and reading theory.
and it's so hard for you, because not-thinking-about-them is still, in a way, thinking about them. because you are trapped in a cycle - fine see if i care/why don't you love me/i can't shake you/why do i care again. and foolish, you wait, like this time the effort will be different. like this time they'll remember you or think of you or take a moment.
and the whole time they're fine. and you know that. they'd probably tell you - i just am busy - or something like that. but that's the problem, in the end. you are also busy, aren't you? because you're busy thinking of them.
