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I’m trying to be oh so precise.
And I’m trying to make this oh so clear.
I don’t know what else to say to you, honestly.
Makes me wonder how I could even think of myself the way I do.
If you think so much like a guy, how I could like you.
I repeat three words, so cliché, so rehearsed.
Over and over, with the same response.
I love you too.
Oh manda, you know I do.
You’re my favourite.
You’re the best.
No one can even compare
How can you even say those things?
How can you even pretend you feel the same?
Maybe it’s just because you don’t understand.
Maybe you think I’m saying them one way…
And therefore you can completely
But you don’t get it.
No I really don’t think you understand it.
I try to tell you a little something about me I’ve just discovered, in discovering you.
Hoping it would be the hint
You needed to finally get
You tell me it’s fine.
You say you don’t mind.
Oh you have tons of friends who are like that.
Tons of friends who feel the same way.
But they aren’t me.
They don’t feel the same way.
They don’t want you, the way I do.
I hate it.
I hate the feeling.
I hate how absent it makes you seem.
I hate myself for hating you in return.
And I hate myself for not being able to find a
Not being able to find the
Not being able to say and do and feel what hurts the most out of all those little feelings I have ever felt.
In my entire life.
Seventeen years can be an enternity.
If you've discovered what you've been
I hate myself for not adding one more thought to the process.
I love you.
I am in love