Is this really what love is?
What it's supposed to be?
I can't sleep.
The conversations, the doubts, running through my head, I said it wouldn't get to me, yet here I am.
Is this what love is?
The constant rollercoaster of feeling full of... What is that?
Followed by the constant feeling of... What is this?
How can I feel so happy, so blessed I found you, yet the next second I feel so dirty? So used? So naive and stupid all over again?
How can this hurt so good?
How can I hate you and the things you say, your impressions of me, early and present, the way you say my name so condescendingly, the way you dissect my past and make me feel like a simpleton?
You push me out, I turn my back, ready to walk away, ready to let you go, you say my name, I'm back into your arms, ready to love... You.
I don't know if this is love.
But what if it is?
