I give up.

As time passes by I realize more and more how little she likes me. Its become almost obvious to me, yet I ignore the truth. It's my pride, my ignorance - my whatever. I must have fucked things up between us right when we first met. I was awkward and my lord were you beautiful. I guess I was to straight forward, to serious. It's a problem I have, being to serious. I don't "beat around the bush" and I don't sugarcoat things. That's not me. I'm right to the point. I never asked anything serious though, never asked you to do anything - except give me a chance. I must still be ignorant to your hate, because I try so much harder now. But now, I give up. We never hang out, our talks have gotten shorter and shorter and frankly you've changed a little. I guess it's finally time for me to throw in the white towel and get on with my life. I enjoyed your company and maybe you enjoyed mine, but now I give up and I'm moving on..

Is it real?

Is it real?
This feeling I feel.
I wonder if she knows
How it is I really feel.
I'm sure she does
She must know
But wait,
What if she
Doesn't?
What if everything we
Talked about
Wasn't real?