A week.

It’s been hell of a week for me. You’ve been gone for a week, not even leaving a note that you really are leaving. I feel sorry for myself ’cause I didn’t even know what I did (uh, I don’t care if my grammar’s wrong). I pity myself for being so sad and seeing you, ever so cheery like nothing ever happened. It felt like I was on a break-up, even though there was never an ‘us’. Hah! Silly me. You didn’t even loved me. I was the special girl who made you feel happy when you were down. I was special, but not loved. And I, I fell hard for you; not even thinking twice of what the consequences would be.

It has been a week, and it’s killing me. Sad thing is, I know this will take longer, and the pain’s actually getting stronger. I have to wake up everyday and say to myself “Hey, Red. He said he wouldn’t leave, but guess what? He left! Now get through the day without being so sad. Go.”

I pity myself for loving too much.


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