*What?*

Don't ask me why I need to always make it dramatic. That's just part of the deal, if you want me you take it all. But com'on, wait, that must be a joke.

I just feel a frustration growing inside me, like a ground swell speeding somewhere I can't control. Upheaval.
And I hate that.

It's funny how all you told me is actually all I was thinking of you. We must not be at the same page. Let's just hope it's not a different story. And I don't get why you don't wanna talk about it. Just turn back a few pages and read the night again. To make sure we understood all the words. And to make sure you remember mine.

I got everything ready for that pic-nic that is eventually not gonna happen. I happily wandered in the shop wondering what could please you. I bought it all. And more. And all this is now meant to stay in the fridge and to be eaten by myself in the week. And I feel miserable.

Maybe I need to stop anticipating everything and preparing everything without even knowing if that "everything" is gonna happen. Maybe. Or maybe you need to start taking my feelings in consideration.

Who said silence couldn't be loud? It is making me deaf, and dumb. Laughters can't cover it anymore.

Meh. I hate being so annoying sometimes.

What are you expecting from me?