I could sit in the middle of a room that had wooden floors and white walls screaming my lungs out he wouldn’t even notice my absent. I could scream till my lungs ached for oxygen and my heartbeat soared but he wouldn’t even turn his head. I could cry till my eyes ached and my cheeks were burned raw and he wouldn’t lift a finger. I could be bleeding, lying half-curled up, crying and screaming wishing for death and he wouldn’t care to help.

I could scream till my throat was raw. I could cry till my eyes burned and cheeks were raw. I could bang my fist and feet against the floor. I could cut my arms up and down. I could puke my guts out. I could be dying, maybe half dead. I could wish for death. But what difference does it make?

I could do a billion things – but it doesn’t matter what I do. They don’t seem to make a difference. All I want him to look my way – acknowledge me just once. If he would just talk to me – tell that he knows I exist then maybe I would stop.

I could do things to make me seem crazy. I could do things to make me seem normal. I could a whole lot. But what does it matter? He never seems to look my way. He never hangs out with me. He never says hello. He never asks what’s up. He never does anything that indicates me.

Why do I love him? If he doesn’t know I’m real? Honestly I donno. I think it’s his looks, and his cloths, and well everything about him. Yet he doesn’t know I’m real! Sometimes it drives me crazy. This crazy way I feel. But no matter what I do it wont go away. And still he doesn’t know me.

But if he just said ‘hello’, hung out with me for a day, took me to a movie, and dinner on the way. Then I wouldn’t drive myself drive.

I could just let it all go.