the memories won't go away
and i can't stop feeling like
you couldn't care less if i was here
or not.

it hurts that you couldn't care less,
that how i'm doing genuinely doesn't
matter. you're all up in your own head,
and when soemthing doesn't suit you,
you throw it away.

did i not suit you? did my depression get
the way of your night out?
you're throwing away 16 years of 'best friendship',
but part of me feels that i haven't mattered
to you in a long while.

i suppose it's your choice,
i'm tired of kissing your **** so that
i can call you my best friend.
it's your move.