I can't decide anymore whether I ******* hate you, or if I love you. This internal battle is not one I'm good with because I'm still not sure what love even feels like anymore. Each day you treat me differently, so I'm stuck here on the edge, waiting for the clock to strike me dead. I have no remorse anymore. I will do as I wish because I'm so tired of being cautious of each and every little step I take just to ensure your stability. I am difficult. I like cheesy movies, sappy sitcoms and writing poetry- all of which you one day love about me and the next, you're making me wish all my interests were the same as yours so maybe you would actually be interested in the things I say. You don't hear me sometimes, or maybe you just don't listen. I'm getting to the point where my own voice is being drown out by yours because it's all I ever hear anymore. I can't see the good that's in front of me because I keep looking back at what we were. My eyes are blinded by the tears that fall, they taste like the regret of all the things I've never said.