confession
I'm too good at pretending. I don't even know how to take off the masks.
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I can't hide it anymore, it hurts, I can't pretend, but I can, I have to, a little bit longer...
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That day will never come.
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If she feels the same, then I am complete.
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But I can't, I'm drowning... forget this.
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Te quiero, te necesito, mi corazon.
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I want you, I need you.
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She's pretty, but you're beautiful.
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If only I was half the things you deem me to be, I would feel justified in loving you.
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I'm scared it's over. I loved you. I loved loving you. I loved that warm, excited feeling when I was with you, and now I'm scared that it's over... I'm scared that I stopped loving you.
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Never mind. I still love you. More than I did before.
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Do you know why I love you?
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You're the only one who's accepted that I'm not perfect. That I'm not the angel or the demon that everyone makes me out to be.
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You've realised that I have flaws too, that I make mistakes.
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You've accepted that my cover-ups aren't as graceful as other people see them.
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But I haven't even gotten to the real confession yet.
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Here goes nothing.
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I'm a horrible person.
I lie and cheat and steal.
My brain naturally calculates things based on how much they're worth.
Even people.
But for some reason, you're at the top of the "worth it" list and you're not worth a damn important thing.
Why are you at the top?
Why can't I spend a minute without you without feeling lonely?
Why are you the first person I talk to, the person my schedule revolves around, the person my mind revolves around?
Because I'm in love.
That's the only logical answer, and I want it to be real.
I want someone to hold me in their arms and tell me it's alright, that they love me and I have nothing to fear.
I want to hold someone in my arms and tell them that it's alright, that they have nothing to fear, and I'll love them forever.
I'm so fake, even to myself.
I feel like laughing.
A weight's been taken off my shoulders, but I'm just saying that to be poetic, right?
I should move to Mars.
...
Oh, and I love you.
I love you so much it hurts to hide it, to hide the feeling inside when I brush your shoulder.
It hurts when I brush away every compliment you give because how will you react if I told you the truth?
And all the time I don't know if I'm lying or not and it hurts when I cry because it's all fake, why am I even crying?
Even the reason's a romanticized lie I made up, right?
Is it?
Am I mad?
Are you?
My lies are so believable that they're second nature to me.
Even I believe my own lies and I don't even know if they're lies or not.
Sometimes I'm scared to feel, to think, because WHAT IF IT'S ALL A LIE MY MIND CREATED?
I lie, I lie not.
I lie, I lie not...
Oh look, a double petal. Is this flower a lie, too?
I'm gone.
I love you.
At least I think I do.
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All these words are from my heart.
All these words have broken my heart, once.
It's up to you now.
Will you mend my heart, or shatter it further?