At the end of the day
At the end of the day, we both do our own things.
You study, I clean. You think about academics and family, I think of you and family.
You want nothing to do with me, and I want everything to do with you.
It was an exact week before the lucky number seven. You have stuff happening and never come to me.
I want to come talk to you but I’m scared, I get this sinking feeling when I see you.
We never talk, and it kills me. You were my day, everyday I spent here was because of you.
You never give yourself credit. I always give you credit, I hate you but I love you.
I can't hate you.
I miss you, every second. I moved all your stuff so that I could enter my room peacefully.
I only saved the knife in respect.
I want to see you but I can’t even look in your direction without dying.
You’re happier, and that’s all I want. I can get over a heartbreak but I can’t get over you.
I don’t have you but if I lost you I would have nothing to hold me together.
I don’t know what I’m saying right now. I have to stop everything I do to forget about you, all my projects and classes. I hope you never know how much you mean to me. I hope things can feel normal again. I hope you start to acknowledge me again.