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Didja know?
Did you know that in the past two years every part of me has gotten better except the parts of me that have to do with you?
Did you know that I was in love with you?
Did you know you broke my heart?
Did you know that I want to cry?
All the time?
Did you know that I feel so helpless and pathetic and melodramatic and it's your fault?
Did you know I've forgiven you?
Even though you never told me you were sorry?
Did you know that I only open the blinds on one for my windows because the other one faces your house?
And I can't stand looking at it?
Did you know that right now it tastes like there's blood in my mouth?
Probably because there is. Biting my lip, y'know.
I want to lie in my bed a cry forever.
I'd rather do that than wake up tomorrow morning and feel happy.
I don't want to be happy knowing I still feel like this, deep down inside.
I don't want to do anything any more. I have no energy. Not even for writing. Not even for writing about this, about you. I don't care any more. I don't care. Good-bye. Because I don't need you any more. I don't need this any more.
But no matter what I do or believe, it never goes away. It never stops hurting. My heart never stops bleeding and sick to death of it. Sick of it. And I'm stuck with it. And you're free from it, free from me. Lucky you. You and your damn luck.
Did you know that I was in love with you?
Did you know you broke my heart?
Did you know that I want to cry?
All the time?
Did you know that I feel so helpless and pathetic and melodramatic and it's your fault?
Did you know I've forgiven you?
Even though you never told me you were sorry?
Did you know that I only open the blinds on one for my windows because the other one faces your house?
And I can't stand looking at it?
Did you know that right now it tastes like there's blood in my mouth?
Probably because there is. Biting my lip, y'know.
I want to lie in my bed a cry forever.
I'd rather do that than wake up tomorrow morning and feel happy.
I don't want to be happy knowing I still feel like this, deep down inside.
I don't want to do anything any more. I have no energy. Not even for writing. Not even for writing about this, about you. I don't care any more. I don't care. Good-bye. Because I don't need you any more. I don't need this any more.
But no matter what I do or believe, it never goes away. It never stops hurting. My heart never stops bleeding and sick to death of it. Sick of it. And I'm stuck with it. And you're free from it, free from me. Lucky you. You and your damn luck.