I hate that whenever I start to get over you, you call and tell me stories of

how you miss me. I hate that I can tell people how much I despise you and

I’m going to end this weird limbo, but when it comes down to it

I never get the nerve to. I hate that no matter what you do,

I still find myself hopelessly in love with you. I hate that when I cry,

you are the only one to make me laugh. I hate that you’ve turned me

into this kind of girl; the kind I swore I’d never become.

Postato da sweetalexiel mercoledì, 01 agosto 2007 alle 02:21.

Versione del blog n° #4.

Past

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