If there's light at the end of this tunnel, I hope it's a train.
....
one would've thought that with my history one would've ended up immune to pain long ago. And well, I did. I achieved that perfect state of not caring. I had it right there and then. I had it all. And yet I took a piss at that because I thought this time it would end up differently. That I would end up with getting other than the short end of the stick. But I never learn do I? Never before did I think that I was capable of loving someone else unconditionally. Or care for another person, not to mention care about myself. No one else ever made me wanna change the direction of my life, wanna get better. Never before was I willing to sacrifice my dreams of nomadic life exploring the world and the dimensions of our cultures, and even imagine settling down. I would've done it all, if that was what it took to be with him. I threw the things I loved the most in the river because I loved him more. And this is what I got.
Apparently shifting your priorities and dreams, sacrificing what you dedicated your life to til then - because of your love for someone - isn't enough. I still should've given more. I should've never been ill. I should've been perfectly healthy right now. That's what I should've been. Getting better isn't enough. It's too slow. Everything right here right now was what would've been enough. And I couldn't give it.
Fine. I get it. You wanna see me happy. Doing a great job so far. Hee-ho-happy-I-am. See the wet bra I'm wearing? That's how fucking happy I am.
I wanted to be happy for you. I still do. It's just that I haven't got much reason to motivate me now that you don't want me anymore. I have no one to get better for, I don't give a crap about myself. I couldn't care less. I can't eat (not that I'm complaining about that). I can't sit still yet I'm too lethargic to even flare a nostril. I can barely breathe. I have to brace my diaphragm in order not to hyperventilate. I'm bordering all sorts of attacks minute in and minute out. I literally feel I'm falling. Yet there always is a bottom. I crash. Then I fall again. Crash. Fall. Crash...you get the drift.
I wish I could just go tabula rasa on my mind. I don't care about no good memories. This twist just made them bitter. I don't wanna remember what I can't have anymore. It means nothing to me anymore. Just like everything else. I hate being so goddamn emo but this just really, really sucks.
By the time I was 17 my brain was nothing but a lump of scar tissue. My heart now follows suit.
It may take a while, but when shedding my last tear for you, I'll be shedding what's left of the little humanity that I had left in me. Gone, like tears in the rain.
Long live the new flesh.
one would've thought that with my history one would've ended up immune to pain long ago. And well, I did. I achieved that perfect state of not caring. I had it right there and then. I had it all. And yet I took a piss at that because I thought this time it would end up differently. That I would end up with getting other than the short end of the stick. But I never learn do I? Never before did I think that I was capable of loving someone else unconditionally. Or care for another person, not to mention care about myself. No one else ever made me wanna change the direction of my life, wanna get better. Never before was I willing to sacrifice my dreams of nomadic life exploring the world and the dimensions of our cultures, and even imagine settling down. I would've done it all, if that was what it took to be with him. I threw the things I loved the most in the river because I loved him more. And this is what I got.
Apparently shifting your priorities and dreams, sacrificing what you dedicated your life to til then - because of your love for someone - isn't enough. I still should've given more. I should've never been ill. I should've been perfectly healthy right now. That's what I should've been. Getting better isn't enough. It's too slow. Everything right here right now was what would've been enough. And I couldn't give it.
Fine. I get it. You wanna see me happy. Doing a great job so far. Hee-ho-happy-I-am. See the wet bra I'm wearing? That's how fucking happy I am.
I wanted to be happy for you. I still do. It's just that I haven't got much reason to motivate me now that you don't want me anymore. I have no one to get better for, I don't give a crap about myself. I couldn't care less. I can't eat (not that I'm complaining about that). I can't sit still yet I'm too lethargic to even flare a nostril. I can barely breathe. I have to brace my diaphragm in order not to hyperventilate. I'm bordering all sorts of attacks minute in and minute out. I literally feel I'm falling. Yet there always is a bottom. I crash. Then I fall again. Crash. Fall. Crash...you get the drift.
I wish I could just go tabula rasa on my mind. I don't care about no good memories. This twist just made them bitter. I don't wanna remember what I can't have anymore. It means nothing to me anymore. Just like everything else. I hate being so goddamn emo but this just really, really sucks.
By the time I was 17 my brain was nothing but a lump of scar tissue. My heart now follows suit.
It may take a while, but when shedding my last tear for you, I'll be shedding what's left of the little humanity that I had left in me. Gone, like tears in the rain.
Long live the new flesh.