This isn’t working for me…
Things aren’t getting any better.
I’m still just choking back tears
With fake smiles during the day
Until it’s 2am and I’m still awake
And I just can’t fight it anymore
Nothing is more humbling
Than the echoing cries
Of a broke down man
Letting himself let it out
With no one there
Just by myself
Want to know what’s awesome? Finding out that the last two years of your life were spent being lied to. That someone you trusted willingly took you by the hand and lead you away from everything you loved, just to further a biased agenda?
How could you do this to me?
do me a favour. if a person wearing a long sleeved shirt or a sweatshirt and jeans on a hot day, don’t comment on it. don’t ask why they’re wearing it. don’t say anything at about it.
trust me, they know it’s hot, they know. but their reason for wearing what they’re wearing probably far outweighs the temperature outside.
There’s nothing in this physical world that can come close to hurting as much as hearing the woman you have loved to hell and back call you by your real name…..
What I wouldn’t give to hear her lips slip a “hey baby” by accident. I never knew how important they were to me until they weren’t spoken.
I FUCKING HATE THIS. I FUCKING HATE THAT THIS IS TRUE. I DONT FEEL ANY BETTER ABOUT MYSELF FOR REALIZING THIS AND TRYING TO STAND ASIDE. I FEEL EVEN WORSE BECAUSE YOU FOUND WHAT YOU NEEDED, AND IM DEAD INSIDE FOR NOT BEING IT
All I’ve ever done my whole entire life is hold grudges of past circumstances and allow them destroy myself. I make myself unable to feel satisfied or recognize what is right in front of me, until I render the other party unsatisfied, incomplete and broken. I made the most beautiful Gerber Daisy wilt till every petal that I used to live for died. And it’s only until the last petal falls, when there’s nothing left of it but an ordinary, boring stem, with no charm or uniqueness, that I realize how perfect it was.
I’m the biggest fuck up that I have ever heard of, and I deserve this. My penance will be watching you regrow, and bloom thanks to the hands of someone else. Until nothing of me has the strength to go on