It slowly starts to creep up on you at ten,
when you look at the clock and you start to think about what they're doing.

It then sinks in towards eleven, when you begin the autonomous
process of laying down, putting in headphones, and drowning
your sorrows in a mountain of music that was only written for you.

By midnight, you start to tear up, but your eyesight
turns hazy not because of the tears but because of the weight
of your sleepiness. After all, you've been doing the same thing,
sleepless nights, for days on end.

One comes around and you start to think they don't care about you
and you mean nothing to them. You begin to replay every moment
you've ever had together and realize you were blind not to see the signs.

Two and your hope is down the drain.

Three, you begin the phase of punishment.
It is your fault this is happening, you are the reason
that everything is ****** up. How could you ever assume that you
were helping, when you were only making the lethal hole
bigger.

By the time four happens, you've reached denial. Nothing
is wrong; they care about you and everything is okay. You're perfectly
fine and if someone tells you otherwise you need to slap them because
they don't know you.

And you can't even make it to five, because your thoughts
become too much and you have to close your eyes
so you can see them again.