Maybe I wasn’t asking you to love me, maybe I was asking you to understand, because for so long I’ve been hurt and for so long you’ve ignored it, and maybe it is bad timing, but maybe, I don’t care. I’ve been here all along just waiting, waiting for you to notice, waiting for you to care. Waiting for you to say that you’ve been waiting too, and you haven’t and maybe you never will or maybe you’re afraid to. But it all hurts the same, and in the end, I’m the one that’s left broken and when I lay down to sleep, I’m still the one crying, so screw the bad timing. I’ve loved you then, like I love you now, like I probably always will.
I like the feeling where I’m just laying in bed with my phone resting on my ear, listening and talking to that one person. It’s like I can be myself for once. Where I can laugh like an idiot at the stupid things we say, or pour out my heart and talk to them about my feelings. The best part is falling asleep to the sound of their voice; knowing you are the last person they talked to at the end of the day, vice versa.
