Am I a vermin? Because you called me a parasite, and I feel horrible.
I’ve been spending most of my time hopeing that you’d love me back again some day. The potential to be something more than what we are now had always kept me going for these past few weeks; however, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I can see all the beautiful things we could be— and I’m not sure if you ever looked at me like that before—but you don’t see any of that when you look at me. You’re so much colder than you were before. And I thought, I thought I could wait forever you to come around— but I guess I’m not that strong after all.
Do I still love you? Honestly, yes, more than you know and more than I’m willing to admit on here. But I can’t, I can’t keep this up.
It’s starting to hurt to much.