OK. Fine. I get it. I'm not you're everything. You don't need to run to me when you have your heart shattered in your hands, and I don't need to come save you because you can do it all by yourself. You don't need to tell me all your secrets and your dreams. You find comfort, you find truth, and logic in yourself and that's totally understandable. And you look at the world like it's a glass half full and all you want to do is just fill it up. You don't need to see me everyday or even look at me. You can go a day without hearing my voice or touching me in the slightest of ways and you can walk away from me after a goodbye like it's easy, like it doesn't bother you. And you can be thousands of miles away and not feel your heart aching, stretching for home, for me...you can go around the whole wide world and not miss anything...anyone...not even me. I actually admire you for that sometimes, I really do. But just not all the time.
Because, you're my everything. When my whole world is crumbling around me, under my feet and I need to hide and get away. All I can possibly think about is running to you. And I need someone to trust, someone to read my stories and share my secrets and that's you. When my heart is breaking in a million billion pieces, you're the one I search for to put it back together. I count on you to come save me. Kiss away the pain and hold me while I'm shaking, trembling. I call you just to hear your voice, I watch you walk away and wish you'd turn around and decide against going home, against everything and just focus on me. I miss you whenever you're not around, and when you're a million miles away, my heart stretches, reaches for you. Wherever you are. The days pass slowly, so slowly it's like blood behind a bruise. At night, I long for your arms around me as the hot, miserable tears run down my cheeks and here's a secret. So, fine. OK. Whatever. Enough said. I get it. I'm not your everything...but it doesn't change the fact that you're my everything.