#06april2014

You're right; I am mad. I didn't want to be, but I am. Sometimes, I feel like you don't care. I feel like it wouldn't matter much to you if I were to end everything. You'll be fine. You'll get over me quickly. You never needed me. That's how I feel. I also feel like there's at least twenty other people you'd rather spend time with before you even thought of me. And the fucked up thing about that is I still feel selfish just for thinking it. What if there really are that many people above me? What if there are more? What if I mean so little to you that you easily forget about me in a crowd. In a crowd where hundreds of different faces just pile on top of me, forcing me onto my hands and knees; suffocating me. I'm gasping for air, reaching for your hand but you're turned the other way. Smiling, even. So oblivious to your surroundings. Only to what's in front of you, you pay any attention to. I'm screaming out your name, but I'm lifted and dragged off by the wave I call distance. I'm sorry we're far apart. It hurts me, and I feel like you have no clue.