In The Darkness Of Night I Swear I Can Feel You Next To Me. It Breaks My Heart When I Wake Up Only To

In the blink of an eye I could lose you. I hope and pray that I won’t, but those eyes and that personality will get you so many girls. So many girls that can give you the love that I can’t. Even though I can’t influence your feelings towards me, I want to stay close. Because to me, being too close is better than watching you slip right through my fingers into another girl’s arms.

What I've realized when I was at your house

I’m scarred that one day you’ll wake up and not love me anymore.

When we get distant.

Misery is knowing that I'm always going to be your second choice. Because there is always someone better than me.

It's fine since I'm used to it now

It's fine. I'm used to being alone.

2 am Thoughts

I wonder if anyone looks at me when I'm not looking. Not the 'staring-off-into-space' look, but the 'I-want-her-to-be-with-me' look. I wonder if I've caught anyone looking at me like that but they played it off. I wonder if there are people who do in that I've never caught. But I guess I can deal with the mystery.

I just hope you do that too

1. I love you 2. I don't know how to tell you that I love you 3. Do you know that I love you? 4. Oh God, I hope you don't 5. I don't want to risk losing you

5 reasons

I hate myself because no one has ever cared enough to teach me why I should love it.

Then I met you

This feeling, what is it? Puppy love? A school boy crush? I hope not, I want this feeling to last. This feeling of belonging right where I am and not having to prove myself to get here. I want this to last, I want this to last. I want this peace to keep flowing over me, I want to feel like I am nothing. Because that is what I feel is going to be my escape when everything comes crashing down around me. Because you'll still be here, and I'll still be me.

Inside the Artist #5

I love you, and I know I will not regret it.

Every time we talk

You look at me but see her. You touch my skin, but you feel her. You kiss my lips, but you think that your lips are touching hers. I’m not her. I’m not the perfectly thin girl you used to date. My stomach comes out to play most nights, but you don't know this yet. I’d rather not be picked up and spun around yet you do it anyway. I’m not her. Yet you still call me pretty, attractive, fit. I feel I am none of these things. You look at me, but you see this perfect image of what I wish I was. You look at me and see something I’m just not.

I’m not her