Maybe I wasn’t asking you to love me, maybe I was asking you to understand, because for so long I’ve been hurt and for so long you’ve ignored it, and maybe it is bad timing, but maybe, I don’t care. I’ve been here all along just waiting, waiting for you to notice, waiting for you to care. Waiting for you to say that you’ve been waiting too, and you haven’t and maybe you never will or maybe you’re afraid to. But it all hurts the same, and in the end, I’m the one that’s left broken and when I lay down to sleep, I’m still the one crying, so screw the bad timing. I’ve loved you then, like I love you now, like I probably always will.

Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.