I don't think anyone other than me knows how bad I wanted things to work out, how bad I wanted to see it through with you. You have other priorities, which is a shame because I fell in love with who you are as a person, all your flaws and imperfections. I saw beauty where others see a bitch. I didn't care that you have anxiety and depression, it didn't scare me away. I thought that was a good thing, that I thought optimistically. Turns out it was my downfall. For a while there you were my best friend, the one person I trusted with any secret. I told you more than my long time friends know. I treated you like a fucking queen, and you couldn't see what was going on right under your nose. It's a shame, we all make mistakes. I just hate that two months later I still think about you everyday and I still try to check up on you. Sometimes I even wish I could be cold-hearted, so that maybe I wouldn't care so godamn much. I just don't know anymore. I hope one day you wake up, but sadly I'm not expecting you to.