It’s not my fault.
It’s not my fault that I think you’re cool.
It’s not my fault that I think you’re pretty.
It’s not my fault that I think you’re the kind of person I’d hang out with.
It’s not my fault that I wish we could grow to be sisters.
It’s not my fault that I wish we could talk face to face.
It’s not my fault that I wish we had more time.
It’s not my fault.
Or is it…?
The only things I know for certain are my feelings, and even sometimes they’re in a grey area.
So whenever I feel something, I like to think that it’s not my fault.
But do you think it is?
What do you think of me, anyways?
Am I just some jaded sophomore who has no idea what she’s getting into?
Am I a confused kid who chose the wrong friend?
What am I to you?
I wish you understood.
No, screw that.
I wish I understood.
Really.
I wish we understood.