Poor, sweet boy.
Tell me why you’re sad

He replied:
Blind, naive girl.

You just don’t get it
The pain i carry is heavy, it’s hard to admit it
Baby, it’s past the point of pills and talking things out.
The darkness that ate my soul is causing a drought

For no tears are shed, in fact I’m incapable of the act.
My emotions are vacant, it’s the ultimate hack.
The shackles of my depression are tight and unforgiving.
So much so that I give up on living.

I am dead inside, but my heart is still beating.
Every day feels the same and I’m just tired of repeating.

Your love is strong, but not strong enough.
It’s like puppet strings that help hold me up.

It’s better in the long run if you cut my puppet down. It’s better for you to let me go while I continue to drown.

She was drawn to him.

Like a predetermined destiny she had no control over

He was her Pandora’s box. She opened him up gently, carefully unwrapping his delicate layers then sat back to gleam at his beauty

He hid from her, thinking his person was broken and bent out of repair. As if he was not worthy of love, not worthy of connection.

She only saw perfection. The seventh wonder was held in his eyes and a abandon world of enchantment in his soul.

How could he not see it? How could he hate himself, his perfection that much?

He would spend his whole life figuring out why she stayed beside him, and she would spend her whole life trying to make him see it.