Every night at this exact time, I wish for the exact same thing. How many times do I have to wish for it to come true?
Maybe part of my insomnia is waiting for your phone call or text or instant message. Waiting for something that's never going to come. But I still have hope. And hope is what keeps me awake all night, hope is what tells me not to shut my eyes, because there's that chance. That chance that I might miss it. That you might get sent to voicemail, or change your mind.
I think I know, in the back of my mind, that you have forgotten me. Forgotten everything you felt.
Until I know for sure,
I am still waiting.
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