Yeah I get your texts
No I don’t respond
Yeah I want to tell you to go fück yourself
No I don’t forget you
But you know why?
Because I don’t want to forget you
I want to remember when you held me in your arms
I want to remember when you kissed me
I want to remember just sitting in your car with you when I should’ve been in class
I want to remember the look on your face when you laughed at my dumb jokes
Yeah I know you’re never going to be mine
No I don’t give a fück
Yeah you’re right I have fücking problems
But you know what, so do you
You say it’s creepy that I still write about you?
It’s creepy that you bother keeping tabs on me
It’s creepy that every time I do something related to you, you send me 10 texts saying I’m creepy and disturbing and that I have fücking problems
You told me to let you go, well this is how I’m dealing with my shït
By doing what I fücking do
By writing out how I feel because I have nobody to talk about it with
Because this is how I fücking deal
So yeah, 8 more fücking days
Then I never want to fücking hear from you again
8 more fücking days
Then I never have to worry about running into you and her
8 more fücking days
Then you’re gone