Another day older, and closer to death

Breathe.
You can do it.
Breathe.
What was my problem anyway? That he didn't text me enough? That his life was going on while mine felt like it had crunched to a standstill?
I felt lonely. Forgotten. Less important. Meaningless. Just another obligation of time to fill in his life that he didn't need. Why? Why did I let myself get manic about this? Why did I sit crying in my bed while I typed the words to push him out? I didn't want to push him out at all. I just wanted him to pay attention. Was this all a dangerous plot for attention? Maybe. Or maybe I just didn't want to feel like the pathetic one. He had thought we weren't healthy. Well. I didn't want to show any signs of unhealthy affection. But I also couldn't deny how I felt. Even if it was manic. That just made things worse. That just made me cry.
I didn't know what the solution was, and I knew he wouldn't either. Which made me wonder why we were still together, even though I couldn't bring myself to let go. I also knew I was being manic. Certain times of year make me manic. Moving in, moving out, finals, grades...staying at my parents' house. It all stressed me out, and contributed to the madness. I didn't know how to tell him I was always like this, and I needed attention he couldn't give, that I couldn't ask him to give.
And worst of all, I love him. And he doesn't love me back.