sing me something.
Don't read this.
The time you will waste could be better spent regretting something else.
Me even.
August
September
October
November
December
January
February
March
April
May.
All we need's another June and July
and we're right back where we started.
The comparisons kill me
but deep down
we both know I can't possibly relate.
He nearly tore us apart on countless occasions,
but I held strong.
My head caved in with the thought of you together,
and I shut down.
You held strong.
Your past fucking ruined my trust for you.
My past fucking ruined your respect for me.
We held strong.
We made promises,
We crossed our fingers.
We are stable,
We are broken.
I am weak.
*An arrogant
self centered
self loving
asshole
I am a coward.
"We're not in love, we're just in love with the idea of it..."
"Love is not a battlefield, it's suicide."
I'm quoting myself, yes.
Why?
First of all, see above(*)
Second of all,
maybe it makes more sense than I am willing to admit.
Hell, maybe I wrote my own fucking obituary a few months in advance.
Stop the presses.
Fresh ink to form:
I Am Not Alright
this has been established.
this has been listed as both
attractive and/or destructive(ly so).
The last seven days have seen me
wrong
cold
heartless
and not completely honest with myself.
When I look in the mirror, I instantly look away now.
It's not like me at all.
"This is the product of 19 years of wanting somethig I know I'll never have..."
There I go again.
I can't fucking escape you.
You're in between the keys
You're the ink
You're the paper
You're the short pause before diving headfirst into shallow water, then miraculously living to tell the story.
I swear to myself
you will NOT be
just another burned bridge
just another line on a page
just another memory.
For everything I've given you,
for everything I saved you from,
this week along almost negates it all for you.
You know what?
I almost wish I could just blame this on those things that happened at the beginning...
At least then I would make sense. But that's not even it...
It's completely accurate to say=None of this is your doing.
Sure-
Those things pushed me away
and gave me bags under my eyes...
but I think we recovered from that.
It would be childish to point the finger anywhere but right back at myself.
It would be foolish of me to even begin to compare.
From day one,
I swore I wouldn't be like him
I said I would be the
antithesis to typical.
But I'm typical, baby.
I'm played out.
A goddamn broken record.
A boring bullet from a boring gun.
Don't feel guilty for pondering the process of
gutting me out.
Don't feel guilty.
I'm in the court room with blood.
I'm on parole with a bomb in my hand.
*edit*
So don't read this.
Read me.
The time you will waste could be better spent regretting something else.
Me even.
August
September
October
November
December
January
February
March
April
May.
All we need's another June and July
and we're right back where we started.
The comparisons kill me
but deep down
we both know I can't possibly relate.
He nearly tore us apart on countless occasions,
but I held strong.
My head caved in with the thought of you together,
and I shut down.
You held strong.
Your past fucking ruined my trust for you.
My past fucking ruined your respect for me.
We held strong.
We made promises,
We crossed our fingers.
We are stable,
We are broken.
I am weak.
*An arrogant
self centered
self loving
asshole
I am a coward.
"We're not in love, we're just in love with the idea of it..."
"Love is not a battlefield, it's suicide."
I'm quoting myself, yes.
Why?
First of all, see above(*)
Second of all,
maybe it makes more sense than I am willing to admit.
Hell, maybe I wrote my own fucking obituary a few months in advance.
Stop the presses.
Fresh ink to form:
I Am Not Alright
this has been established.
this has been listed as both
attractive and/or destructive(ly so).
The last seven days have seen me
wrong
cold
heartless
and not completely honest with myself.
When I look in the mirror, I instantly look away now.
It's not like me at all.
"This is the product of 19 years of wanting somethig I know I'll never have..."
There I go again.
I can't fucking escape you.
You're in between the keys
You're the ink
You're the paper
You're the short pause before diving headfirst into shallow water, then miraculously living to tell the story.
I swear to myself
you will NOT be
just another burned bridge
just another line on a page
just another memory.
For everything I've given you,
for everything I saved you from,
this week along almost negates it all for you.
You know what?
I almost wish I could just blame this on those things that happened at the beginning...
At least then I would make sense. But that's not even it...
It's completely accurate to say=None of this is your doing.
Sure-
Those things pushed me away
and gave me bags under my eyes...
but I think we recovered from that.
It would be childish to point the finger anywhere but right back at myself.
It would be foolish of me to even begin to compare.
From day one,
I swore I wouldn't be like him
I said I would be the
antithesis to typical.
But I'm typical, baby.
I'm played out.
A goddamn broken record.
A boring bullet from a boring gun.
Don't feel guilty for pondering the process of
gutting me out.
Don't feel guilty.
I'm in the court room with blood.
I'm on parole with a bomb in my hand.
*edit*
So don't read this.
Read me.