Just something to come home to and never take out. Waiting alone for confirmation, validation, for my fucking respiration to come back, too. Compromising when I said I wouldn't. Listening to a confession that I'm deserving of things I'm just not getting. But I'm betting things won't ever change. I'm not sure where else I could run away. I just want to matter more than a little. I want promises not made to stifle whatever words I say you just can't handle because they're only too true. The way I feel might seem embellished, superlative laden objective sentences, but please. Continue to disregard the weight they carry because reading them hurts you and for that I should be sorry. And I am. Because I just can't matter, not even a little. I read a confession that I deserved things I just wasn't getting, and I bet things wouldn't change.
Listening to: Vicente Garcia - Soledad