She left, and didn't come back.

At this hour/ the streetlights have a tune/ all their own.
The shimmering light bends as the cascading particles illuminates with a sense of urgency.
A record on repeat/ the majority retire/ the ladder lack homes.

Does she sleep as much as me?
Does she spend as much time alone as I do?
Does she even think of me anymore?
Does she recall the moments on her bed?
Does she recall the first date?
Does she think about how much I miss her?
Does she even miss me?
Does she know that I go to sleep every night in pain?
Does she know that she's the one causing the pain?
Does she know that every time I see her I hold back tears?
Does she know that as much as I want to give up, I can't?
Does she know that I can't carry on like this?
Does she even care about me?
Does she even sleep anymore?
Does she look up at her ceiling and watch the days pass?
Does she wake up, as depressed as I am?
Does she remember that I'd give her my everything?
Does she simply block me out now?
Does she know that I can't live in this world?
Does she know she'll be in that suicide note?
She doesn't.

It slips between the fingers, like grains of sand.
Time, becomes lost once dedicated to the catastrophe called responsibility.
Do we ever seem to catch up with it, or does it simply catch us?
Perhaps, just perhaps, time is an assailant, a provider, and a blessing.
Disappearing right before your eyes, fading into something close to if not exactly, nothingness.

To those who cared, I cant help but apologize for the lack of communication on my end of the spectrum. I can't help but grieve the loss of myself in the sense that the way I walk this earth no longer intrigues me. I can't help but give the utmost attention to the fact that I lost many years fighting for it to all boil down to nothingness. My condolences go to those who had done everything to assist me, they reach out to those who had ever hurt me, they reach out to the world, the unknown, and the known world of which I had stepped foot on. Sure, I could go on forever about how I hurt and how my life seems to be shambles but we all know that already, we all know that I can't live in a manner in which I can't help bring myself up, I can live in a way which corrupts. No longer, should I be whole, no longer should I try to keep on. Sweet dreams to those who kept it together, sweet dreams to those who made something out of themselves, sweet dreams, sweet world.

To my family, I care about nobody but myself.
But in my own mind, I am not mentally sound enough to make a decision and realize the weight behind it. I do care, I care about whether they sleep well at night, whether the weight of my decisions falls into their laps, and whether or not I can do things for them in the long run. I can't leave my past behind and I can't move forward when the past sits in my lap. How do I wake up? How do I come to terms with myself? How do I keep myself from just giving up and throwing my body from the office window? I don't know, but maybe time does. Just maybe.

I made it,
nobody can take what I have earned,
nobody can strip me of these last years,
nobody can tell me I didn't make it.