сряда, ноември 23, 2011


You are busy. I know that. I appreciate your work and I know that I have no more right to bother you. All day I try really hard to control myself and not to call you, not to write when I see you on-line...and then I lose my grip. I check my phone every minute for a message even though there will be nothing. In and out from my mail... searching for you. I want to hear your voice. No time for me this week. You said that you were so tired. More than usual. I wanted to talk just a little bit more with you, but I shied away. Now I write here, because I feel... whatever.

When I say "nothing", when I get desperate, you turn to anger. And then when I oblige, because I never ever wanted to see you this way, you say I gave up. A couple of nights before you told me to jump from your terrace if I want to commit suicide. I still wonder if... Said that, now I am learning to be more positive. At least I try. Reining my pain and emotions behind a fake smile and empty glazed eyes. Some of them are eating me up from inside but I am strong enough and I stiffen them.

Still can't let you go. I don't want to. I will keep repeating my soft "I love you" because I really do. I may be stupid and naive but in my little world love is the greatest thing above all and it is worth all my soul. 

I want my black hole back. Good night, love.

1 коментар:

  1. "Not to write when I see you on-line...and then I lose my grip" < Това аз го знам най-добре.......

    А на другото коментар му е излишен... Тихичко ще си поплача и ще те гледам отстрани. ;-( :-/