You and him are two breeds of the same species. You hurt, but he hurts more. I miss some things about you. Like the way you’d pick up my phone calls on the first ring. And the way you always wanted to be with me. I thought I was over it. Over the love struck tardiness to your mild heart, but it doesn’t seem so. I miss when making me happy was a priority and not a hobby. Because you can stop hobbies. They’re never a forever thing. I don’t feel like a forever thing when I’m with him. And you were the most painful stab of them all and it was hard enough trying to push you away, but till this day I’d still want to hurt for you than him. Because he hurts, but you hurt less.