Void

I feel aimless and empty after reading the hunger games.

And now, late at night, I ponder,

How much do you actually mean (to me)?

(I wish I could do so more.)

I do not deserve this. You. Of course I don't. I'm not worth your time because it would all go to waste anyway... And I feel so awful and honoured at the same time that I think I must be crazy. I don't really understand why I am deemed as what you perceive in your eyes when I haven't done anything to earn such (painfully touching) comments. Why is everything still so infuriatingly complicated?

I wish we could smoothen those creases, fill up those cracks, create a plain, clean canvas for us to restart the painting. Right now our canvas is splattered with a myriad of colours, so bright and lurid that it only makes us dizzy. It makes me dizzy. But there are also splotches of dark grey and black and red of hurt and pain and things that can somehow never be healed or painted over. And how long has it been that way? A year?

I wish we could just be simple, and I wont need to feel like I am in extreme debt. But I am. I don't deserve any of this. I really cannot do anything in return, and we tried to restart so it wouldn't be so unfair, but it always failed.

Too many thoughts cluttering up my mind, but the bottom line: you are really, really important, but there will always be a limit (to the level of importance) and I am sorry.
I did like the music, really..

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