If Nick didn't want to be with me, he wouldn't.
I sit here, wasting my time. All the time. I waste my time on thinking. Thinking that this is not going to work out. That I will surely fuck this up. Just like everything else.
It's okay when I don't have these thoughts. But only because he is there with me, and I'm not left alone, thinking thinking thinking.
I think maybe he'll eventually want someone better, much better. And that selection is so much bigger than someone below me.
It's just a matter of time.
But I do this all the time.
When will my mind shut the fuck up and just let me be happy?
Yeah, I thought the answer might be never.
And only when I type or write this shit out that it makes me want to cry.
Why? I don't know. Maybe because I fear ending up like my mother.
It is certainly possible, almost unavoidable.
I cannot escape my past.
It seems to haunt me always.
I hate getting like this.
It's almost always only when he's not around.
Pathetic? Perhaps.
I need him.
He is what is keeping me sane.
