Living Through Tonight

If I told you, would it really make a difference?

I ask myself that over and over again as I look at you. I can’t help it that I find watching you somewhat soothing. Nor can I help it that for every time you walk past me and hug someone else, I feel like my heart is breaking.

There are memories where we used to be closer. We used to laugh and chat a lot and sometimes I’d just read over old conversations just to remember that once upon a time, you didn’t ignore me. I know it’s stupid to want you the way I do, but I just wish that one day I had enough guts to tell you that you are and will always be perfection to me. I may move on, but I’ll never forget you because you are the first person I can truly say I love.

It didn’t occur to me that it was love until I realised that I was more concerned about your feeling and well being above my own. We used to go out with friends and when we parted ways I would be waiting online for the next few days for you to just sign in and assure me that you were safe. It didn’t really matter to me that I probably seemed like an idiot to the rest of my family. I just needed to know.

You don’t read this stuff anymore; you have better things to do if of anything. You disregard all my personal messages in my name as just me being me. Did it ever occur to you that it’s about you? I know that you probably couldn’t ever see me the same way, but for all my arguments that hope is stupid and pointless, I can’t help but hope you know.

This is a huge risk for me. On the oft chance that you read this, I’m most probably going to kill myself knowing that you’re trying your hardest to pretend I don’t exist. Either that or you’re trying to figure out the nicest way to let me down without hurting me too much because we have mutual friends and they’d kill you if you hurt me like that. But I can’t be certain about that.

People would probably settle me down to being insecure right about now. I am. I know I am. But there’s also that slight problem that I’m afraid and will probably always be afraid of the rejection that you’d certainly deal to me.

So I’ve said my peace. You broke my heart again tonight and I know you probably don’t really care, but I still felt it and I’m probably going to cry myself to sleep because of it. As my personal message now says: If I did something wrong, if I've hurt you some way, please forgive me; you're breaking my heart every time you turn away.

For all intents and purposes this is just a random story, and I’ll have changed my message before you sign in anyway. Not that you sign in anymore – at least not as often as you used to. I wish you knew how I felt so that you would know exactly what was happening to me every time you ignore me, but I wouldn’t wish this pain on my worst enemies.