I hope one day that my stomach won’t flip when you send your smile my way. That my heart will not skip that beat every time I see your face. With every vibration and ping, I’ll stop wishing it was you. Those butterflies in my stomach need to be murdered so that I don’t feel sick every time your attention is elsewhere, as I watch you move away. Someone else taking my place. I hope one day I can listen to those songs without the memory of you assaulting me. I hope it will stop bothering me, when we go for days without speaking. Or when I know your purposely ignoring me. I hope I’ll stop feeling like this.
Maybe one day.