This is what happens: You come home for the summer and I hope that you’re alone. And when you are, you seek me out. And every year I hope you want me just as badly as the year before. And every time you do. And I hope that you’re just lonely enough to want to be with me as much as I’d rather be with someone else. So we test the waters, and I play with your head the way you used to play with my heart. And I feel less lonely and less sad and cure what little emotions you have left. And we settle, like we always do. Me with you, and you with the idea of making this more than the nothing that it is. We don’t change, we don’t learn. And you’ll treat me nice when you want something or you haven’t seen me in a while. Just to trick me into getting used to the boy I once knew, but I know better than that these days. And you’ll call me names when you get drunk and sad, and sometimes it will get to me. But mostly I get angry with you because I’m bored. I’ll start a useless fight just to feel something towards you, even if it’s hate. And it will hurt you the way it used to hurt me.

The way it used to feel back when I loved you, because at one point, I did love you.