So I guess you are folding your body crying in bed right now. You said your bed was not actually any bed, just a bed sheet with pillows on but you know, crying. You must be crying out of pain.
And please keep in mind that I love you. I really do. I have the habit of loving anyone who is nice to me, at the slightest act of kindness. And I love you. But I have to be honest: you don't love me.
You don't love me at all. Or should I say, you don't love me in the way that I want you to. You don't remember tiny details about me, don't know what my favorite band is, don't know how of a naughty kid I had been when I was young. You just don't love me like that. You love the happy, bubbly me. You love the fact that I make you feel so comfortable whenever we hang out, and you love how my hand and your hand touch and it makes your body turn into fireworks.
I want you to know my stupid thoughts. I want you to care about my stupid thoughts. I want someone that I can tell stupid thoughts to, and someone who I will turn to when I'm sad. I want to cry. I want to throw tantrums at you. I want to be nasty. But I know you won't love me. You don't. You love the comfortable, easy me.
I'm sorry our moms never taught us what love feels like or how to recognize love. Is love biking 15km to see me everyday? Is love that time when I disappeared and you walked all the way to meet me in the rain? Is love when you called me to tell me please don't leave? After all, is it really love when you told me to fuck off?
Well, I'm so confused. I don't know, you don't know and we don't know. But please keep in mind that I love you. I love your hands, your personality and I love how you always have this natural happy look on your face. You have the voice of a person who would burst out laughing at anytime. I love your hair and the fact that sometimes you just want to stay at home forever. I love you, but you don't love me. And someday, there would be someday when you just wonder if I love you.
But today I know I do.