I think about dying but I dont want to die. Not even close. In fact my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic. There’s so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I’m still here in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can’t quite figure out what the hell I’m doing or how to get out of it.
You did not love me,
You just loved the fact that I was here for you.
You loved the attention I gave you,
You loved the fact that I would drop anything for you.
You did not love me, but god,
I loved you.