#416.
I don't know exactly where I'm going with this. I don't know why I'm sitting here frantically checking my phone every few seconds because I keep hearing it ring when it isn't. I don't know why I'm only hearing things I want to hear. I don't know why I expect you to come running back to me with apologies and words that would make me smile.
But that's just it. It's not that I expect you to. It's that I want you to. And usually you would. It's just tonight I might have taken it too far.

I don't know why I'm sitting here on the verge of crying, instead of going to talk to you myself. I never wanted to seem high maintenance, but lately, being the way I am, that's what I seem like. Yesterday night, during our game of truth, you told me that there was never a time you wanted to not talk to me. That it was never like that. I wish I knew what to say to you right now. In my ideal world, you'd say to me that you don't know what you did wrong, but you're sorry anyway. But in reality, you haven't done anything wrong, so I shouldn't be wanting you to apologise.


Nights like these confuse me, and I wish I could be more for you.
Maybe I should have said some of this to you instead of blogging it out.

Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)
I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel.

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