I still think about you at least once every single day. It has been seven months and I am still waiting for absolutely nothing. I try to stay as realistic as possible, but once in a while, I'll get a tiny fleet of hope that I'll try to stamp out, but will linger in my mind anyways.
It doesn't hurt the way it used to, and I don't ever cry about it anymore, but yeah I still miss you. I miss your hands and eyes and your love. Sometimes I spend my time wondering what I did wrong, what I could've said to maybe change your mind. There are so many regrets and so many scorched pieces of memory that I wish I could've changed. Why is it that I am only seventeen and already I wish I had done my life differently? I keep thinking, if I was prettier, or smarter, or cooler, or charismatic, maybe you'd be as much in love with me as I am you. I hate admitting this fact that I still love you, but it's a feeling that will never, ever go away. There's always a minute of my day where I wonder if you still have this feeling hidden somewhere too.
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