You and my idea of you—I’ve learned they’re two entirely different things.
Thank you, world!
I don’t know about you but I’ve been throwing a lot of fits lately. And I tell you: it ain’t pretty.
I wish things weren’t dependent of other things.
That would make life a tad bit simpler. From one ruined plan to another, it is without a doubt that one would think that the universe is conspiring against them. It’s just hard to understand. You think you’ve solved a problem when you’re only faced with a bigger mess. It’s tricky and it’s complicated. And because of this, it’s just too easy to give up.
I can’t help but hate it.
I don’t even want to try anymore
I could’ve fought for you, you know:
But I was too weak and you
Wouldn’t even let me, just be
Brutally honest you were like always.
Constantly aware of what to do and not to—
if this or that or that or this is better
however strangely put things are, still
You never seem to bend and break until I
do: I know you and quite frankly although
it pains me to see you leave times like these
would be a reminder of moments past, and that’s
what really matters in the end. Yes, knowitall.
It’s nobody’s fault
You, for telling me.
And me, for hoping that things will get better when it obviously won’t.
(Today, after a very long time, I cried.)