what time will do for hopeless dreamers

it`s that time of year again. You know the one. The time where I wear your perfume and cringe at the smell of cigarettes. The time I listen to ballads and write some of my own, ones I’ll keep to myself, because no one would understand, save for me. I’ll take refuge in sneaking sangria and stolen moments of reminiscing to that summer, before I talk myself out of it. Because I can`t get bad again. I really can`t afford it at this point. And I’m going to therapy, but I don`t think I can ever tell her about you. She wouldn`t understand. And maybe I’m being nostalgic, but I’d like to think I’m just appreciating those days. But fuck, I wish someone had told me at the time. And I think I’m starting to realize something here, that it was my entire fault. I pushed you away because in my subconscious, I knew that twelve year old me couldn`t handle that sort of realization. That I loved you. Not just in a best friend way. In an "I want to spend the rest of my life doing anything I can to make you happy because as long as you`re happy so am I " sort of way. And the years of Jenna taunting me, calling me gay because I’ve always been close to my friends had eaten away at me. So I guess you could say that I was afraid. Terrified. And you would be right. But I hadn`t known. And my greatest fear of all: the fear of the unknown. so I pushed you away, and that`s the end of it. And if you came back to me, I know for a fact I could make you the happiest girl in the world, or at least try. But you`ve got yourself a boy, and I’ve got myself a broken heart. So hopelessly I dream of you, and hopelessly you forget my very existence.