It's one a.m. and once again, I don't know what I'm doing.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking about what to say to you tomorrow when you look at me the way you do, when you say those things, when you act like that. I'm thinking you don't care about me, but you do, everyone knows you do, except for me.
You're leaving next year, which means I'm leaving too, 'cause you're a part of me. But I don't know where I'm going.
I think you're wasting your life with me. All you've been doing is getting sicker, and I've been getting sadder, but not for the right reasons. I'm sad at myself, which makes me mad that I can't be happy for you. I'm at war, I think.
I open a text message to say this to you, so you can finally understand, but me saying something would change everything.
I remember what we used to do, but those days are gone, gone, gone.
I hope you remember me after you leave, 'cause when we see each other again, maybe I'll talk then, and you can finally hear.
You say you might be leaving sooner than next year, but I don't think I can take it, so maybe I could just go with you.