Another Saturday night sitting here with a person who I've devoted myself to, watching him wish he were somewhere else, with someone else. The glare from the computer screen reflects on his eyes as I watch him look, and wish, and wonder. The life we made isn't enough. He will never be happy. I hate myself for staying with someone who doesn't love me enough to care that I'm dying inside. When I say I want to go all he says is, "Then go." Why is it so easy for him? Why do I sacrefice everything for a person who sacrefices nothing for me?
He wishes I was one of you. I guess I do too.