i wanted to take my insides out for you. i wanted to cut myself open and rearrange the parts so that they matched you better. so that they fit you better. we spoke and joked about what would happen if we were different people, but i wasn't joking more than i was joking. i was never sure how serious you were. i came clean with you one day, after months of burning agony. i pulled up all of our words and told you i was serious, and that i wished what we joked about was true.
you told me no. in the nicest way possible, you reaffirmed that you were just joking around, and that it was fun to talk about but it would never happen. all the presents and the letters and papers that plastered around, it was all there, but all fake. i knew this, deep inside i knew this, but the rest of me wanted to know for sure.
i hated everyone who took you away from me for a while, especially when they wouldn't treat you as well as i would have. i could stand doing things i hated just because they were important to you. every time we moved, we moved together.
i'm over you, but i might not be over that feeling. that i would have thrown away everything in my life to make it your life.