areyoumyfann:

I don’t know if you know how I feel.
I don’t know if you realize how much I’m truly hiding.
I don’t know whether or not a single thought about me goes through your head, without you having to be shaken by me.
I don’t know if my existence is simply an annoyance for you.
I don’t know if you even care. 

I’m always waiting for you to start the conversation.
I’m always giving up in the end and starting it myself.
I’m always wondering whether or not your words are even truthful anymore.
I’m always wondering why I don’t just let you go.
I’m always killing myself inside.

Even now, despite the fact that it feels as if I’m simply a mere speck of dust in your life, I don’t know why I care about you still. Why I kill myself each night hoping that it could be like the past. Where I knew I actually meant something.

Even now, I know that there’s a possibility that you’ll read this, wonder whether or not I’m talking about you. Even if you think its you, you may or may not even think of talking to me about it. And even if you talk to me about it, I’m just going to lie. Lie to you. Lie to myself.