The art of noticing.
My anger continues to boil just at the thought of the things I can't predict. You're supposed to keep going. Instead, you stopped. I don't know how to differentiate between giving up and stopping. I want you to pursue me and fight for me. Fight me. Harder than I would like. Make me talk to you. I keep it all bottled inside knowing I want it to burst out because deep down I want to communicate with you. Deep down, I want you to understand everything about me but I'm stubborn baby. I can't fight it sometimes and I want you to break down that stubbornness of mine. Make it that I wouldn't even think of withholding anything from you. I know it's not fair and it's selfish but that's who I am. I am selfish. I'm waiting. I'm waiting for you to come for me. But you're not here. I can't feel you. If I can't feel you, how am I to know who I'm confiding in. Please come for me. I'm waiting. Seeing how you can laugh instead of forcing ...