and we could never have the type of love I wanted.

and I do this stupid thing like think that having a lot in common will be the trick, and nothing ever comes natural. and I start to think that this is the best it'll ever be for me, and I believe it, and I think about it, but i'm wrong. it's just the best it's ever been. and true love isn't one sided, and I think I need to understand that. january is just a boy who made me feel once, and november is just a boy who made me live once, and june is just a boy who gave me hope once, and none of them matter because none of them are real. everything, including the high points is in my head. or in my heart. and it takes its toll after a while, and you can notice it in the weight loss, or the amount of sleep I get, or the days I waste, and none of it I can get back except the first one. and because of all these months, I can' get back the days, or the hours, or any of it and I hate it.

and all these words I type on here sound the same, and they are always about the same thing, and they always have a hint of january. but I can't change it, and I really just need to believe in it as much as I say that because I'm so right about it.