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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Young Adult · #1804046
What it may seem to many who encounter these same feelings with everyday men.
It took me too many years for me to realize what it was and why it was, what it was.
I should be thinking about my school grades, colleges, my future career, and what I'm wearing tomorrow but I,
being who I am think of things in all dimensions; past, present, and future.
As I read my book, and listen to songs of feelings long gone, my own accounts are quite similar.
How you would do anything just to feel love;
how you would do anything to get the one you love,
to love you back in that same way.
I blame those feelings of desperation on me being immature though I know
I felt that way only because I had paniced in an unfamiliar situation.

As I reminisce of me sitting on a bench, surrounded by people who actually cared.
I think that my tears (intent of being passed as a wind of "Aye you! I love you! Don't you get it! Dammit, love me back!") were sent to the drying earth. What is worse, is your friend (who is your friend no longer), saw the pain and heart and felt moved by it, the way you should have been.

What is worse, is that you were of course, unmoved and neutral to my emotions. I asked myself why, even after these years have past, why you were not moved?

What is worse, is that the answer is you simply don't care and will feel that exact pain one day. The thought of you in pain is quiet funny and humorous.

But what is worse, is the reason why you simply didn't, don't and won't care, which is simply put you are a heartless bastard. 
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