You know I act like I’m fine
when other girls speak to you—
like it doesn’t touch me,
like I don’t notice.
I keep it calm,
shrug it off,
play it cool
like it’s nothing.
But inside…
it’s loud.
A quiet kind of breaking,
a tight feeling in my chest
I pretend isn’t there.
Because I get jealous—
not loud, not crazy,
just this soft fear
that maybe
I could lose you.
And I hate that feeling,
hate how much you matter,
how one small thing
can shake me like this.
So I smile,
look away,
act like I’m unbothered.
But the truth is—
I’m not.
It’s just…
I love you
in a way that makes me
feel like I have everything
and something to lose
at the same time.