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i hate that i love you.

its like the cracks on the chair. you see them running deep through the soft material, but when you run your fingers over, you can't seem to feel anything unusual about it.

its like an old paint stain on the wall. you see it clearly, standing out over the rest of the smooth white paint. you rub and rub at it with a wet towel but you just can't get it off. in the end you decide to stick a piece of paper over to cover it. you can't see it anymore, but it will always be there. underneath the mask of white.

do you know how you make me feel?
the worst feeling in the world.
so much i want to tell, but so much i hold back.

i wonder what you'd say..

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