I started counting the minutes that perhaps you would take me home, I know it’s not likely, but still. I still hope that you would come. I know I am selfish, but this is why I cannot tell you how much I wanna be with you — to see you; to hold your hand once again. But I have to think of your well being more than my wants; that you need sleep more than I need you. This is why I keep all these feelings to myself because what if you know how much selfish I am, would you leave me?