You or my sanity?
Why can’t love be just love? Whatever that means. Why does it have to rip me apart for me to feel it?
The more my words are about you, the more my sanity dissipates.
It’s like I’m a foreigner in my own body and I don’t know the person writing to you. Because I wouldn’t use those words would I? My insecurity bashed self wouldn’t let me right?
My heart is not supposed to feel warm with love or whatever they call it these days, right?
My lips are not bound to stretch into a wide smile at the thought of you, right?
Of course I wouldn’t crave your touch like a hungry beast, no I wouldn’t dare!
I’m going insane, doubtless!
It scares me to think that if obsessing over you with my words from afar made me lose my sanity what would having you do to me?
Kill me?
