Downtown there was a coffeehouse.

Inside that coffeehouse, worked a boy of barely eighteen
If only he knew how much I loved him

I watched him from afar, wanting him to come and ask me what I wanted to order
I’ve been watching him ever since he worked here

With my bright red lipstick and white dress,
I’ve been wearing this exact look for almost two years

Sometimes he walks past where I sit on the balcony
Sometimes he comes and sits with me on the balcony

He acts like I’m not there though, strange
He’s usually nice to everyone

Or maybe it’s because
I’m dead.

*(l.e.)

“What’s depression like?” he whispered

“It’s like drowning. Except you can see everyone around you breathing.”