I think I live for you. I don't think I even breathe when we're not together, Which means, when I see you on Monday morning, it's been like sixty hours since I've taken a breath.
That's probably why I'm so crabby, and why I snap at you. I'm not even mine anymore, I'm yours, and what if you decide that you don't want me? How could you want me like I want you? ~ Eleanor/Park