Brownie

My mind is fucked. 

I'm confused. 

I think a lot about you... still. 

It isn't really killing me that much anymore as before. 

But I think I still miss you. 

The worst thing to know is that you don't miss me.. at all. 

Because I know that you don't. Why should you?
You broke up, you didn't "love" me. 

But love is a fucking weirdo of a phenomenon. 

You wanted to find another..
"I'm going to find the right one" That is what you said. 

You might as well have punched me in the face.. It would have been less painful.. 

But I know there is nothing I can do.. You wouldn't come back..
I don't know why I'm still hoping..
Your life goes perfectly on..
Mine does too, but something has still changed, inside of mé. 

Something that I cannot explain. 

Something I don't know... 

I'm afraid.. scared to death.. 

What is my life? Where is my life.. WHAT IS life..
Do I live at all?