It’s terrifying,
Realizing just how little you know about someone.
Without realizing it,
Without even meaning too,
They became important.
So important that everything reminds you of them,
Their wish is your command,
And you overflow with jealousy when others draw near.
It’s terrifying to think about;
Realizing that you may just know only one side of them,
Knowing that they don’t think of you at all,
Understanding that they are more important to you than you will EVER be to them,
And Accepting that that will never change.
It kills you to know this.
That when they are gone,
When they find love,
Or when they stray from the one thing that connects you
(and I can assure you they will)
They leave without a word,
Without a care,
Unknowing of the scars they have left behind.
Leaving you broken and battered,
Wallowing,
Hurt,
Stressed,
Feeling more alone than ever
With a piece of themselves missing.
You may have been lovers,
Acquaintances
Friends,
You may not have even met
But somewhere along the line,
They became important.
And somewhere,
On some day,
You looked down in anguish
At the grave you had unknowingly dug yourself.
You can pretend,
But your dirt-covered hands will prove true.
It kills you to know this,
But eventually you will dig your way out,
Clean yourself off,
And start with a new patch of ground.
A patch of ground with which you may either
Build a house,
Or a grave.