Ambiguity.

Sometimes I'm afraid to say what I truly think, or what I truly feel.
And you wonder why?
Perhaps it's because of this. Of these. Mixed emotions and worn out hatred. Vicious circles and vicious lies. Spreading things that weren't yours to say. Sabotaging something good to improve your own 'self worth'.
It makes me sad when I look at you because I remember everything we were. We were laughter and scribbles and worthless conversations.
And now everything has to have a meaning to you. Your self-involved existentialism has blinded you to teenage life. Are you happy? That's the one thing I always wonder. Are you?
I miss it all but each day you make that a little more difficult. I wonder if I'll ever get the guts to say how I really feel. I wish I could pour my heart out here about it all but I can't, I don't know why. I have to speak to you before it drives me insane but I don't want to, not at all.
I hope you're happy, because I'm not. And sometimes I think maybe that was your plan all along.