I'm only another line in your book.

I'm the afterthought.

The mint after dinner that's put on your plate that you never asked for. It's a nice touch, the little part of the puzzle which makes it fit just that little bit better, but something you could live without. Something you wouldn't really notice if it was taken away. You'd like to think that you would. You make it seem like I'm the be all and end all of everything for you but I know it's not true. You liked me more when I was still in the shiny, new, mystery wrapper but once it was taken off and you saw it was just plain old me, the novelty wore off. You chucked me in, you sucked and savored the best parts then just devoured the rest.

Eventually you will drop me just like everyone else and I'll be left here like I always am, scrambling to be enfolded in the newest heartbreaking embrace.

Rocking side to side and backwards and forwards on this roller coaster of mood swings, trying to keep the smile to stay fixed in place is getting hard. I'm waiting for the ride to break down just for some peace because my jaw is starting to ache. You know how hard this is. You know that the ride came for free and it's impossible to get off and you just don't care.

You make it worse.

You're the salt in the wound when before you used to be the salve. When you cared. When the wounds weren't caused by you and I didn't rely on you to be my safety net. You love the idolization but not the responsibility that it comes with. You don't realize just what it is you mean to me, how your smile is enough to make my day and a slow response shatter it.

I'm still hurting… perhaps beyond what's reasonable and I hate you, possibly beyond what you deserve. Well of course I don't really hate you, how could I? And if we're going to get down to technicalities I guess it should be mentioned that you never actually did anything… but still. It's all I think about. It eats me from inside.

God this was easier when we started. Before other people got involved. Before I started loving you more than I love myself. I should etch it into my brain to never allow myself to do that with anyone else. Not that I want anybody else.

Really, I don't. If I had my way I'd never get over you.

It's getting hard. You're the mountain that I have to conquer, to win over. I carry a hell of a lot of baggage with me and you're covered in ice making it a long strenuous journey. You're not impossible, you're just a challenge. A challenge that I have accepted, but I'm miserably failing. I have to quit quitting to restore your faith in me. It's your interest I really want but we can't go asking for miracles now can we? I've been booked on a one way flight going down since I met you; no amount of self sacrifice and fake pleasantries are going to save me now. Save us.

It'll eventually come to the point when superlatives won't be what I crave anymore. I'll settle for the average noun and leave the semantics of each and every singular word to someone else. You don't really love me, if you did we would've been together a long time ago. These loose ends of a no strings relationship has become nothing more than a knotted and mangled mess. There are no bonds, no security, this isn't anything real. I can't go on living through these black comedy scenes waiting for them to turn into a romance. It's not going to happen and I need to get busy living. Actually living and not imagining a better life where I'm different so we're different, or where you're different so I can stop feeling second rate, or unsubstantial for you. I don't want you to change. I just wish that there was something different in this.

But we're not different.

We're us.

And that's the problem.