I wanted to forget you, because I missed you.

And I hated all those kind words you had said to me.
I hated that you said you loved me.
I hated that you chose me out of the crowd.

Because I missed you…

Now I’m starting to get over you.
But a part of me still wants to repeat the color of your eyes in my head so I won’t forget.
Another part of me, just wants to get you out of my head.

This is bittersweet.

Just know,
I miss you,
but you missed me.
I love you,
but you loved me.
I know you,
but you knew me.

I wish you would just come home.

This is, indeed, another confession which seems selfish and pitiful. I don’t expect you to provide sympathy or empathy, just finish reading, maybe give a understanding nod and continue on. I just needed to place this somewhere, anonymous. If you skimmed through this, or fully read this, thank you for your time.