Maybe the worst thing is that my best isn't good enough
I probably never meant much to you and I think I knew we were like tires in a snow drift. Spinning but not going anywhere.
But I tried.
And that hurts too. That I tried.
I tried so **** hard and you don't care. So maybe that's the worst of it. There is a lot of things that hurt. And a lot of things that tie for worst in the pathetic story of you and I.
But the thing that will always win, the thing that will surpass all of these moments I regret.
Is that my choice will never not be you

I looked forward. I hugged my knees to my chest and looked forward.
The hole in my jeans exposed my knee caps and my sweater did little to stop the cold from penetrating my skin.
But I looked forward. I can't really tell you what I saw. I could tell you the psychical view. The lush green trees and the pretty blue lake. But I was looking beyond that. I was looking at myself.
Please don't think I'm on a high horse. I know man is minuscule to nature. I know. But right now I am important. Important enough to compare to nature.
The wind blew lightly, the leaves dancing. They swirled and settled just as quickly. And the water was calm, but got ripples every time a leaf drifted onto the glassy surface.
I looked forward, anyway.
The thing I can't tell you is what i saw in myself. I saw a girl with a tattered sweater and ripped jeans. A girl with dark circles and a pretty smile. But I couldn't see underneath. I lost myself. I hadn't realized it. But slowly yet surely i had lost my quirks and my charm. But I was whole, and I was alive. Breathing. I survived the year.
Looking forward, the water and the trees brought the year back.
I wlooked down at the worn Polaroid.
It was the same lake, the same trees, taken a year ago.
I was the only thing different.
And I'm still okay.

I can promise you nothing because I am nothing. We are nothing. Because I will not go down in history and neither wwill you because I prefer to read books than write them and you prefer to run from problems than face them. And we are in a void of black water. We are sinking and desperately flailing. Because our time is up. The labyrinth of us and our suffering is finished because we are finished. All I can give you is kiss goodbye and i hope you find someone who loves you at noon as well as 2 am. You deserve simplicity, music that fills your ears and doesn't empty your heart like the music I made you listen to. I was dark and you were light. I was the moon and you were the sun. We crossed paths and landed in the sky at the same time occasionally but I did not want to orbit you. And maybe you will find someone who will be happy to follow your light but I've always pick the black shadow over the white rose. And Im still not sure if you were less than enough for me or if I was inadequate for myself. But I've made my choices, nonetheless.

Very possibly the most frustrating thing in the world is when you aren't happy with yourself. '**** this', 'I hate myself', and 'who even am I?' Run through my head approximately 1737 times a day and who I am to question a god but how can I feel this and still get up in the mornings and all I want in this life is to not want to sink into the walls and never emerge and if  that's a lot to ask for then **** whoever makes that choice because I'm only asking to tolerate who I am

It's finally springtime in my veins. It's cold outside, and ice covers the roads. But the ice in my body has thawed, and I feel warm for the first time in months. there is a smile on my face and it's not anxious anymore. I don't feel like every nerve ending is ready to spark. I feel the way you do on a lazy, happy day. And maybe it's because you left and he arrived or maybe it's because I realized putting all my happiness into a tangible thing was a bad idea but either way I'm smiling and it's genuine. And God, could I conquer the world at this moment