Let Me Be Melancholic for a Second

I've got to say this somewhere, before I send a stupid, slightly intoxicated text...

I went to the bar...

Our bar...

And I know it's really stupid; I know it's not logical. But I miss you, and I keep missing you, but I don't want to miss, and I feel like I hurt you, and I need to say I'm sorry and ask your forgiveness. I want to call you, but my pride just won't let me.

But you got a lot of apologizing to do yourself, mister. And I still can't get over the fact that she wins simply because she was first in line. But she's not even yours anymore. She doesn't want you. But the girl who does, you don't want her.

And then I saw your sister. At our bar.

And she said you almost came out tonight but didn't.

I keep holding my breath that one day, we'll meet up again, talk it over, and laugh about how much miscommunication there was.

We'll say I'm sorry.

And forgive.

And forget.

But I know that it's stupid and illogical. And pretty much impossible.

But still, I hope. And I pray.

If it's God's will, then He'll make it so.