Every little thing you do or not do, makes me thing, "was it me?", "issit my fault?", "are you talking about me?", "why are you not telling me anything?". It feels like I have an obsession. Sometimes, I tease you, but I wish you knew I meant it because I was jealous. Sometimes, I poke fun at you, because that's the only excuse for me to talk to you.
I care about you, so I always ask if I sense something wrong, but recently, I feel as though I have been a pest, like some kaypoh person. And you don't even care about me? You don't ask about me, you don't tell me about you unless I ask. So what's that suppose to mean?
Nowadays, I'm starting to tell myself, maybe I should let history repeat with all my other friends. Let silence separate us. But at this point, I still always give in. Every time we have a chance to meet, I would consider more than just twice. Is it worth it? More hurt or more happiness?
Till I have decided, I guess I'll just live in my own illusions, believing that I'm as important to you as you are to me.
