...what am I doing?

I'm annoyed.

With myself.

At how I'm behaving.

I don't understand how.

I can let your presence.

(or lack there of)

Matter so much to me.

I don't understand how.

I can be showing you so much.

When I promised myself that I'd be.

Very nonchalant.

I try sometimes.

When I can remember.

And yet here I.

Am.

Writing all this.

Where you could read it.

If you wanted to.

Just so you.

Know, I'm fighting.

Something I want so.

Badly.

But that doesn't mean.

I don't want it.

(you)

I just.

Really can't bring.

Myself to actually trust that.

I wont wind up exactly how.

I was last time.

I make bad.

Choices more times.

Than not.

And I.

Am scared.

This one could.

Really not be a.

Mistake.

Showing me that.

I'm not the failure I.

Thought I was.

So here I sit.

Waiting like normal.

Hoping you wont.

Read this.

And yet I keep writing.

I missed you today.

Even though I really didn't.

Want to.

Admit that.

I did.

Probably the thing.

That scares me.

Most.

Is I have no.

Idea what you.

Want from.

Me.

I'm terrified.

And utterly annoyed.

At how I'm handling.

(or not)

This.