The hard part is knowing that somewhere you're still breathing. Your heart still beating-- beating for me. The harder part is knowing that somewhere, out there in the world, you're still smiling. But not smiling at me. I guess you'll never know. Never know what the inside of this seemingly glass heart looks like. Maybe I hide it all too well. I know that's what you think. That I don't love you like you do me. But I promise. I promise that even when the glass is fogged, I do. I really love you.