I hate that I’m always there for him when he doesn’t give a fuck about me. It’s like I’m there for his convenience. I’ll do anything for him and wait for that moment when he finally stops ignoring and chooses to talk to me. I hate that my happiness is so dependent on whether or not he’ll talk to me the next time I see him or if he’ll like my next Instagram post. Constantly waiting, constantly checking my phone, hoping that his name will light up my screen. Constantly telling myself to stop waiting for the slim chance that he’ll end up picking me but then not being able to bring myself to stop caring about him. I can’t let go. I can’t move on. Because what if, just what if there’s a chance that he wants me too.