Wednesday, 11/13/02 - 9:57 pm.
The truth is he's not mad at me.
The truth is he's not going to the beach because he wasn't allowed to.
The truth is he's very unhappy.
The truth is he has a lot of things to say but he can't get them off his chest.
The truth is he loved someone in the past and cried so much he can't cry anymore.
The truth is he hates to talk about his emotional issues.
The truth is he considers as the worst thing in the world being surrounded by people one should be glad to have around and feel like avoiding their company (can't you tell he's felt that way?).
The truth is there's someone special in his life.
And it's not me.
The truth is the friend who lives farthest from him is his platonic love and he considers spending time with her the best thing in the world, and in ten years he sees himself living in LA with her.
The truth is I'm still in love with him.
I wanted to be special for him.
I wanted to be special but I'm just another broken heart.
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