We're roommates. You bring dates home. I hear...

We're roommates. You bring dates home. I hear everything through the walls. Laughter. Conversation. More. Everything I want and can't have. I put in earbuds. Pretend to be asleep. Die a little inside. You apologize the next morning. "Sorry if we were loud." You have no idea. This arrangement is killing me. But moving out means losing you completely. So I stay.