I don’t matter. I’m not special.
Yes. I’m crying about it.
I suppose that means I should grow up.
You broke me.
You hurt me.
I broke you too.
I hurt you too.
I’m simple.
I’m complicated.
So are you.
I don’t like the idea that I’m not special.
If I’m not.
Nobody is.
But I think everyone is.
I suppose you were right.
It’s a stupid win.
I just wanted to make a bed for you.
And make life easier on you.
And run you a bath.
And make your pain go away.
And relax you.
And other such simple things.
I’m sorry I wasn’t ready for your love at the time.
You took it away now.
You stopped giving it to me.
It makes me sad.
I’m so tired of hurting.
-C