Before I go to bed, I wish you'd talk to me, like you do every time we had misunderstandings. You didn't care if I was in the right or wrong side. All you cared about was wanting to talk to me because you love me. I don't know how you manage leaving both of us miserable (or maybe it was me). Or maybe you don't really feel anything at all except anger because I'm fucking shallow and childish and I'm the only one who's miserable and missing you, the old you.
Maybe you're growing up and you're being mature cause you handle this like a pro. I guess I can't cause I feel so broken and my damn pride won't let me run to you to fix it. I don't think it'll be fixed though, cause you're already like that and I guess you're too tired from work to patch things up with me.
Who am I anyway? I'm just some virtual girl 10,000 miles away you don't even know. I might not even be real.
I hate this relationship.
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