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.