The last starfighter is wounded, time to give it up.
Why is it that I can convince myself that I don’t care, and I can wish the worst for you, but no matter how much hate I fill myself up with, I still feel empty without you? Why is it the second you come back, apologizing, groveling, and begging for my sympathy and attention, I realize that every bit of pain I want you to feel for hurting me just makes me hurt even more? Why does karma have to be a 2-way street? Why couldn’t you just get yours and it be done with? I still love you. I still need you. And I still want nothing in this world more than for you to be happy. But will that include me? And should I want it to? I guess only time will tell, and these wounds will keep on opening until I learn to love myself more than I love you.
