(This is not an excuse.)
Who ever is aware of the person laying next to them? You and I will never know of the way we stole words from the mouths of those we loved, we will never know what they have seen while we weren't around to tell them to cover their eyes. We will never know of the way they feel when we tell them "I love you," and again when we tell them "I hate you." This is not an excuse for me expecting more of you.
(Roughly around 2AM.)
Two is a huge number for me, my favorite of all-time. I remember in the second grade when I thought every single boy was revolting, but then there was you. I never liked curly hair or brown eyes, so what the f*ck was it? I like to believe that people know who is going to make them whole. I like to believe that we all have half of a heart and that two of those will make us one. Roughly around 2AM is when we decide that it doesn't take love to make love, but that is no excuse.
(And truthfully speaking.)
I know what you think of me and how you wouldn't seem to notice if you never heard from me again. I have gotten so good at pretending I don't care that you're always too high and too tired to tell me whatever it is that I want to hear and I don't know if I want the truth because I have invested so much of my time into putting together the pieces until I realized that the very existing truth is that you only need me roughly around 2AM, and truthfully speaking, I've wanted your half-heart since the second f*cking grade. That is my only excuse.