The moment I realized that you no longer loved me,
I started to notice the way the sun hit every hair on my knuckles.
It seemed that even though I was already going 65 miles an hour on a 50 mile an hour road,
it only felt as though I was going 30.
Everything around me started to slow down,
everything switched to high definition.
Usually, when I think of you,
everything else is a blur.
Usually when I think of you I see the silhouette of our future,
harsh against the doubts.
Now,
it's faint in comparison,
and I can't quite tell the difference.
You always told me that I was unlike any other girl.
But today you told me,
that you don't respond as often as you used to,
because everyone gets on your nerves.
And for me to "not be like" everyone
when suddenly I am everyone,
I realized you no longer love me.
When I got in the accident and you were the first person I called,
you sent me to voicemail.
When I told you that I loved you,
and you were the first and last person to cross my mind,
you told me you were busy.
Two weeks later and you never called back.
The idea of loving you turned from the reality it was and slid to just that-- an idea.
And yes,
I've always had a creative mind,
and yes,
I've always let my hopes get the best of me,
but you were the best of me.
You see, I've always seen you as beautiful,
some beautiful mistake.
I can't help wonder if all of this was a mistake.
When I call your name, you don't respond.
When I dream of you, it's not as clear as normal.
And yes, I said when I think of you,
usually things are a blur,
but I never thought this connection would get weak.
I guess...
I guess I thought wrong.
I always wanted to love you until there wasn't another tomorrow,
but now it seems my schedule's free;
I have no idea what's to come.
You always told me that I was unlike any other girl.
But now, I'm just like everyone else.
I'm just like *everyone.