Casablancas

So you let someone into your heart. You let some sort of indescribable, complicated feeling slipped into you. And you like the warmth. You like the comfort it brings you. You like the knowledge that someone out there spends minutes, hours, days, thinking of you. You like that each time they showed you their attention, it means that at least for one second before that, the thought of you had crossed their mind. It's almost like you were a ghost they are not afraid of. They try their best to tell you funny stories, to find something to make you laugh again, because they want to see you happy. But they failed, and you feel sorry, so you faked it. You put on a smile on your face so they don't worry. So they don't worry? Oh yes, because secretly, you care about them too. You feel you're worthy. So you fall in love. So you think it was good, but what good does it make if you're merely a ghost?