when I’m away from my parents
when I’m away from my phone
Do you know why we broke up? And I don’t mean the basic, surface level reasons. I mean the underlying factors that rippled up to the surface.
We broke up because I was sick of not knowing when I would see you next, because I was tired of being second place to every whim and temperament of your family, because I was bored of never being taken out on dates, because I grew to hate being disappointed every. friggin. time. when you have to leave early, when you can’t spare a few hours, when you neglect to show you care as much as you supposedly do.
I know it isn’t your fucking fault. Or at least I try not to blame you, since I’ve been there too, and I know I’ve already criticized so much. But it wore me down. Maybe that’s why the feelings faded, why the embers died down: because you don’t have a fan. And honestly, love, it’s going to be tough dating a girl our age until you can take that for yourself, and get your balls from your family’s grip.
It’s not that I don’t understand; it’s that I can’t help but feel.
Because if it is, then I’m sorry. I know that things take time, but I hope that you will come back to me, my friend. And I hope it happens sooner rather than later.
Because I once loved you, and now I love you still.
If you love something, set it free.
If it comes back to you, it’s yours.
If it doesn’t, it never was.
and it’s strange because i can’t call you to tell you about it