Scatterbrain

I hate you for being so kind. You make me feel like an ungrateful bastard.

I hate you for doing so many things for me. Because I know I sometimes do not have the capacity to do the same for you. (Or maybe sometimes you do not let me)

I hate how I cannot seem to help you as much as you help me.

Or rather, I hate myself for not being kind enough to make it up to you.

Maybe you should stop from being too kind. 

All my life I kept telling myself that I don’t need you. I can’t believe I’m saying this but now I realize that perhaps I do.

It’s tedious to wait, but I’ll be patient. Because I know you’re just somewhere out there, also waiting for that “perfect” time, if perfection ever exists.