It's at 11:59 p.m.
I'm still waiting for your reply.
My eyes feel tired;
but I choose not to say goodbye.
I feel like I'm a crumpled paper.
You talk to me because you're bored.
I feel like senseless.
Who I am, anyway?— no one.
I want to be your someone,
I hate to admit that I want your full attention
Yet, you can't give it,
To a poor girl—poor me.
What if this is the last time we're going to talk;
would you still hang up your phone?
What if this is the last moment I am going to answer your messages;
will you still fall asleep making me wait for your replies?
You know what?
There's a painful thing inside my chest.
It is unbearable.
I know.
It is my heart who feel pain.
In this entire life, I've been waiting.
I don't know that I will come to this point—
to the point that I'll be tired.
Tired of endless waiting.
I'm tired of waiting for the trash collector.
You will just talk to me when you are bored;
when you feel not entertained.
In later, you'll just dump me.
Dump me together with rats in the dumpsites.
You really care about me!
I wish pain is a feather
that I can blow away.
A vapor
which can be vanished by day.
But it's impossible for me,
because you treat me like a crumpled paper
in tons of your neat papers.
You show your concern at first.
In the later part, you never mean it.
You're a liar.
I hate you.
I want to say that I mean it but deep in my heart,
I know its hard.
I'm the crumpled paper,
you neglected and taken for granted.
Now, it's time to say goodbye.
I will forget about my love for you.
This is my midnight thought.
You'll never get any replies from me.
I don't care about you anymore.
In the first place, you're like them.
Tay-tay Swift is right,
'You break me like a promise'
The next time my name will flash in your phone,
I'll be a different person.
It's 12:01 a.m.
Still waiting for your sweet goodbye.
Time runs fast I can't wait for it.
It's over.
I delete your number in my memory and
I off my phone.
Today, I'll be a person, not a crumpled paper.
I will never be the same.
I realize my value.
I will never be the same old paper.
I will prove to you that I'm better than a crumpled paper.
Today, dump me.
The hell I care!
You throw me in the trash once you're done. You made my love decay. Today, I'm perfectly gone.