I wish you’d talk to me more. Don’t get me wrong, though. I feel like the happiest person in the world—
every time you reply to my messages but I noticed something. I felt stupid for not pointing it out before, but when I reread our old conversations, it became clear to me that
I was the only one who’s interested.
You never asked how I was doing. I only ever flood your phone with questions revolving your life and all you do was either answer them or find a way not to. You never did the same to me. It hurts because I kept wondering if there’s a better side of you that I haven’t seen before, and it gets worse whenever I think about which people knew you the most.
I want to get to know you better. Right now I hardly know a thing about you because you won’t let me, but if ever you need someone whom you don’t know much but still understands you, just know that you can always talk to me.