He said, "It's all in your head"

And I said, "So's everything'" but he didn't get it.

^I get that now.

It's a really bad feeling...thinking too hard, knowing you've said the wrong thing.

The reason I was spaced tonight was not because I was tired, it was because I knew you weren't going take off your sweatshirt entirely, even if it was ninety degrees.

And then I thought what would have happened if you did come to my house, and my mother asked you if you would like to take off your sweatshirt, and how you would politely say no, i'm fine.

Why has it been bothering me all week? It pops into my mind at the trigger of a word in school. Why is it that when Mr. Murray tells me to write a poem about life, it makes me want to write about you?

That paranoia ABOUT you was replaced with worry FOR you.

That's why my "How are you's?" are getting annoying and why i stare off into space, secretly hoping that you're okay and someday, when you read these words, you'll tell me what's hurting you.

Why can't I write like atgasfain?