I’m either crazy about you or I’m not. I love you or I don’t. I fucking hate you or I like you. There’s no in between with me. And when I stop being jealous or crazy over you, that’s when you’ll have to worry. Sure, I’m annoying and I can easily push buttons. But once I don’t give a fuck anymore, my crazy for you will be gone. And if you want the crazy gone, then you don’t want me. You either accept the crazy or you leave me the fuck alone.
Because I disliked the unfamiliar happiness more than the familiar sadness, I threw away my footsteps. I worry that I’ll become a pair of worn shoes Because the world, time, people twistedly wear me I forget. Like the heaps of newspapers and bills in front of my door, Don’t leave the thoughts and demands of the world in front of me. This is my home - leave me alone.
Do people lose themselves because they don’t have a home or a path to walk down? Or is it because even though they have many places to go, there is not one person waiting for them there?
“I’m not really into you, you’re just a friend that I’m not even afraid of losing.. So stay on the sidelines BITCH while I go flirt with every guy I can find. n__n”