Because there’s your parents, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your siblings, your best friend, your other best friend, your other other best friend, your teachers, your friends, your neighbors, the people you’ve met on Twitter, the people on Twitter that you haven’t met, everyone else, then me.
Because I always have to start a conversation. But, the conversation doesn’t really start until you reply half an hour later.
Because I listen, but you don’t quite hear me.
Because you don’t read between the lines, you read every other line that I write.
Because I constantly feel like I have to rebuild everything from the beginning. But every time, the foundation isn’t as strong as the time before.
Because even when you’re with me, someone else has your attention.
Because I go to bed full of hurt, and so I pray to God that I won’t wake up in the morning. But I also pray that no one will miss me. Because even when I’m gone, I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone.
Because I have somehow become your psychiatrist, always being greeted with your problems.
Because I now need a psychiatrist. Greeting the morning, and bidding the night farewell to myself.
Because I gave you my life, when the devil had offered me a better deal on my soul.
Because it’s a joke to you, and I’m the punchline.
Because I want to make your dreams come true, but you’re always asleep when I’m awake. So, when will I have time?
Because you aren’t yourself anymore, no longer reading or writing like you used to.
Because I always feel alone, especially when I’m in your arms.
Because all I asked for was your time. But, your time is money that I don’t have.
Because I’ve forgotten why I liked you, why I really liked you, and why I gave you more chances than I’ve given to others.
Because I’m still here, just because I have nowhere else to go.