Tief verknalt zu sein in der Zeiten des blöden Chatten

I wonder what she does during her busy days...and I have no ideas...sometimes I wonder whether she listens to the music I recently gave her...sometimes I try to believe that she thinks about me at least a tenth of the time I do it...sometimes I just hope she is not too tired, sometimes that she is so tired and fed up that she might come back to me...then there are those few seconds when she logs in, and for those few minutes I know what she does...and I feel good and at the same time an idiot to think that this small information means anything...