Why do I still think of you sometimes? Because you're there. In front of me. I see you and I remember why I hate you so much. You ruined me more than anyone has ever even loved me. I loved you more than I've loved anyone, and you took my love and replied with "It just happened."
Your life was rough, so you made mine the same. Months. Months pass and you don't even worry about it, careless as can be and going through life as if you never knew me. I wish you never knew me, and I you. Save me the pain, the suffering, the late nights I spent wishing you a rest, talking to you and ignoring my real life. What a waste.
You told me so much about you, and I still remember it. All of it. Yet I still tell no one. You still look at me that same way you once did, but you know you can't do anything about it, and I know you're lying.
Why does love hurt so much yet still is so beautifully crafted? Why is love so hard to find, yet easy to lose? Why was it you that did this? It had to be you.
