untitled.

I thought this song (though incredibly old, and probably forgotten about by most people) would be very fitting for my current situation and circumstance.

"Empty Apartments" by Yellowcard

Call me out
You stayed inside
One you love
Is where you hide
Shot me down 
As I flew by
Crash and burn
I think sometimes
You forget where the heart is

Answer no to these questions
Let her go, learn a lesson
It's not me, you're not listening
Now, can't you see something's missing
You forget where the heart is

Take you away from that empty apartment
You stay, and forget where the heart is
Someday if ever you loved me you'd say, it's okay

Waking up from this nightmare 
How's your life?
What's it like there?
Is it all what you want it to be?
Does it hurt when you think about me?
And how broken my heart is

Take you away from that empty apartment
You stay, and forget where the heart is 
Someday if ever you loved me you'd say, it's okay

It's okay to be angry and never let go
It only gets harder the more that you know
When you get lonely if no one's around
You know that I'll catch you when you're falling down
We came together but you left alone 
And I know how it feels to walk out on your own
Maybe someday I will see you again 
And you'll look me in my eyes and call me your friend

Take you away from that empty apartment
You stay, and forget where the heart is
Someday if ever you loved me you'd say, it's okay

It's okay
It's okay

Pity Me Not 

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a man's desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay