It'd be better to forget you.
But I don't really want to.

No one's good enough for me right now, I just want you.

I need this feeling to pass, but I don't want you to pass.

You're not worth it.
You don't deserve it.

I should stop writing about you.
I'm begining to romanticize the idea of you (and your eyes and your freckles and your hands).

I never quite knew exactly who I was to you. I never quite knew what you wanted from me.

But I know what I wanted from you.

I suppose I asked too much of you at the time. There wasn't room for me to fit within the chaos of your life.

Wrong place, wrong time.

It'd be better to forget you.
But I don't really
want
to.