Here I lay on your bed, pretending to sleep. Because truly, I really want to talk to you, but I can’t because it’ll kill me more. Because it’d be so selfish of me for not giving you the space you need. But then I fear that the space will make both of us more distant from each other, that things will change between us two, that I’ll lose you. We would still love each other, but not the same way. It hurts me because I care too much and worry about wanting to talk to you or be with you all the time, and always wanting to be your only everything. It makes me cry because I get so sick and tired of wanting to feel that way, and I can’t handle it. And I feel more alone than ever because no one will ever understand the way I feel, not even you. I love you so much, so selfishly, it hurts.