Years have passed, my love, yet your voice still follows me like a lost piece in time. How I've craved for your laughter, the soothing romance of your words, and the way 'I miss you' once came from you—that made my heart falter and nearly die.

Must love need such sacrifice before its reality blooms and becomes genuinely ours to hold? I find none that can match it, despite my mother, with her kind heart, sending out men of money she likes, expecting to see me loved solely by fortune. In her eyes, I am beautiful and graceful, knowledgeable and deserving of the best heart. Is the heart yours? I don't know. All I know is that I revere you, despite the fact that my reason and aching are at odds—an Armageddon within me.

So here's a taste of it, my love. A love I once held with naïve wonder, thrilled by something I barely understood. But now I'm all too familiar with its gravitational pull and resistance. You may grow to loathe me for this. Still, a part of me wants to see you; you know my favourite food and where we met. However, I have no desire to revisit those memories; let them remain where they belong, and I will go there with whomever I choose. You, my darling, are no longer sacred in that sense.

Sometimes I think, if love is so strange, let me live forever—such beauty is worth more than a fleeting existence. I do not want death or an end, but if it is necessary, we must have one. However, the universe feels like a half-dreamed story, I can't understand. Would that it were everything but a delusion! But if I go out to the streets and cuss at the loud passers-by, they will yell back, won't they? If I upset my boss, she'd kick me out, wouldn't she? Then all of this must be true. But that's strange—very strange—and I don't understand it. And you still love me, don't you?

At times, I still wonder what you truly want from me. You seem to have no desire other than to completely possess me and hold me tight. Isn't it only a simple need to feel me near again, to know that what we dreamed and felt is as real as your own and mine? Yes, what we've loved in thought and heart aligns like stars—but you have no idea how much I've changed. My love stays unaffected.

If only you knew that you are not equally deserving in my eyes as you think. You have no idea exactly which path I will choose or what the future holds. Yet, how beautiful it is to see 'I love you' in my eyes every day—a shelter, a wish realized. That is exactly what my heart desires. However, we are separated, and I am free to go as I like. I make no guarantees, simply that I still hold you in my heart. But my life, dear love, is mine alone—not for you!

I don't know the weight of your troubles, your love, or the loneliness that keeps you where you are. Perhaps your pain outweighs mine, leading me to question whether I should wish you gone. You've rusted like iron, and I'm the stone that has been softened by time and is meant to sparkle like diamonds. May my foolishness make things even more difficult? For the time being, wisdom is more than enough. And, despite my selfishness, I can't take the thought of losing you. You must stay by my side until I can find joy without you. Perhaps this is the price you must pay, but in the end, it will be worth the difficulty I face.

What if we were imprisoned by the world itself, destined to love one another forever, and suffered an endless misery? Is it possible that we were meant to cross paths and fall in love again in some previous life? I fail to recognize how, but I know you; therefore, it can't be any other way. You have a familiarity, a knowing, as if your soul and mine had already danced in silence that only we know.

My darling, how lovely it would be to leave this world in your loving hands. But is it possible that even if I were to marry someone else in the future, the sight of your face would be the only thing that would bring me peace? The cruelest of fates, wouldn't it? Because it is you that I have loved, both joyfully and sorrowfully. We are intertwined in both tenderness and pain, like a rose and its thorn. Oh God, the pain of loving you sends through the heavens—how many times have I spoken your name? My friends are aware of you. My mom is aware of you. Who gives us this love, though? For what purpose does God permit it? How much of this can I take?

Didn't you initially blame the heavens and all of their gods? Allow them to work now in their unusual, fateful way. And if that is the case, then allow me to receive the karma I have sown, just as you must in due time.

My soul's cry is known by your listening heart, Lord, if you do indeed hear. I hand in to your will, whatever it may be, because you are the one who has seen me through this storm. You know my heart, and by knowing me, you also know him, even though my prayers haven't reached him. Give us your blessing so that we can be happy no matter what happens or, at the very least, feel at ease knowing that we are protected by one another's love. I beg you alone: Lord, lighten his burdens. If that lightening means a life apart from me, then so be it. I would have him freed, given he finds peace.

I realize that you might only want to love me at this moment, but even so, my heart still loves you, even though I worry that my efforts may decrease or stop completely. There is a desire inside of me for something greater than what we have been. Even though you are very kind, it is not enough to keep me because you need to accept everything about me and my family in order to possess me. This will be a huge burden for you, my love. However, I assure you that I will see you again, though in a different lifetime, at a moment so special. Because even after I'm gone, you will always be a part of my soul. I want you to be the last person to hold me when death calls for me—by my side as I turn to dust. My dear, what a burden it must be for you. I long to rise again because it is already too heavy for me to handle.

Maybe I won't order the ramen, and if I do, it would be better to enjoy it by myself. After all, our meeting spot is just a mall that I love, where I will stroll around and spend in treats to prove to the world that I am capable of standing tall and on my own. My lipstick, blush, bronzer, and contour, my shoes, clothes, and bag all reflect a world I've created, with each item being more costly than the one before it. Nevertheless, I question if you are worthy of walking with me. Wouldn't a wealthy, attractive man be more appropriate for a woman like me? I know you used to say you were busy, but what have you turned into?

Love, you have taken up so much of my time, making me rebuild, only to come back when everything has changed. My once-steady heart is now an overturned table. Now, where have you gone? Not quite as far as I was in 2019? Maybe 2020? Have you in any way made your parents proud of you? And I would say that mine have supported me through every storm and seen me slap away every hard reality. Silence has never been an ally in our battles. They are too familiar with you. My dear, your hopes are too high. Even though I didn't understand her at the time, my mother saw you as something I couldn't hold from the beginning. I can now understand why, through the lens of her sorrow—her own first love lost to the passage of time. I'm not going to wait to hear about your passing. But know that you are going to understand when it's time for me. As you always have, you will regret it in the moment—you're always too late.

You will never be mine, my love; my soul cries. This writing, this troubled text, was the result of a ****** conflict between emotion and logic that was impossible to stop. You are a myth that continues in the back of my mind and is sewn into every part of my days. Perhaps we will cross paths in another life. Let your actions speak louder than words if you genuinely love someone. Given that I can't believe this, even as your voice echoes in my ear. I have put you in the past, out of my reach, save for a moment of desire. I might give up if you want me in the middle of the night, but know that it will be without love. All that's left is an unsatisfied hunger for you. Maybe it's the fire we used to share, the touch, or the body I miss. However, it's not that simple—no, my desire extends farther back, to a moment when I believed I had truly loved you. But now all I can feel is the pain of the flesh I want.

My heart would shake with fear if death were fighting for you right now, because what if the afterlife were real and you could see me from some distant, invisible realm? However, I would prefer that you be sent to a place of eternal pain rather than peace because of the years of suffering you have caused me. And yet—how you have turned into such a complete and miserable tragedy that even my anger has been controlled by your own miserable condition.

Should you ask as to whether we will ever fall in love again, I give up. The weight of it all aches too much in my soul for me to know how to respond. I hope you get it. Even though I am only a passing thought to you, I am standing here with a grudging sense of happiness in my chest—perhaps blessed that you want to keep me and wish for me forever. How are we supposed to live? I'll ask again: do you get me? I seek happiness—just you and me, in bliss—rather than sadness in our times together. You still only touch me in bed and give me momentary pleasure; there is no heart-to-heart exchange. You have no place in my future. I hope, by the gods, you understand this.

I've prayed for eternity to drive away this desire and to abandon my love for you, just as one might exorcise a curse. I wish I could have such a miracle, but should I call upon someone to erase you from my thoughts? Oh, if such cruelty could ever be reversed, how painful it would be for you.

I feel you—these words are like a weight I can't bear, intended for me but hollow, fading before they hit.
You murdered me, didn't you? I'm somewhere untainted, in a spot I can't go to yet keep ending up in, like if I was never supposed to belong but can't seem to get out.

We were never meant to be—that's the part I finally understand, despite my instincts.
I thought I could get away from it, forget about it, but your silence continues to ring—a persistent echo that I can't escape.
You don't have to say it; I can hear it anyhow.
The empty areas where we used to be are a piece of you that I will never possess.
A love that was never truly mine.

And, sure, I ruined it.
Of course, I did.
I trusted in this and in you—this ruin.
I believed the shattering captivated me, but it was something else I convinced myself.

You say you want peace, but I don't believe you know what it means.
Is it letting go? Is it more than that?
Is it setting me free or setting yourself free from me?
We'll continue to go in different directions, saying we've forgotten about the hurt.
Learning to cope with what is absent.

They'd tell me to go away, to give up—but if you love me, say it, and say it louder, until all that remained was quiet, the place where we once were.
I'll keep traveling, but I will never stop seeing you.
I'll never stop feeling you; this unhealed pain leaves no scars.
It just remains open, no matter how much time we spend.

So this is the last line, the last thread winding down, and the last thing I'll never speak aloud.
We let go and go on, but I'll always remember you, even when it's not right.

And maybe, in time, we'll both fade into something different.
Not together, not as we imagined, but separate, and that will suffice.
Perhaps that's the closest we'll ever come to peace.

For what feels like the millionth time, I’m certain that some unseen force, cruel and unyielding, keeps us apart. To name it feels unbearable, yet what else is left to say? We are both so tired of trying. Even the best-laid dreams crumble like autumn leaves underfoot, withering into nothingness. The moment we ached for has long slipped through our fingers, as fleeting as sand, and still, we clutch at separate visions, refusing to let them dissolve.
I continue to write about you—again and again—but these words are ghosts, never meant to find you. And if they do, know this: you were never their intended destination.

Please, I beg of you—turn away from me as I stand, untouched, unbroken beneath your gaze. With a heart heavy as stone, I know we will never gamble on the unknown. So I won’t look back to marvel at the fragile beauty of the dreams we built and shattered. Let us abandon this myth of fate, for fate is nothing but you and me, bound in knots we cannot untangle. If you defy what I’ve undone, or I resist your path, we will both unravel, thread by thread.

They’ll call me cruel, say I play games with your heart—but all I crave is peace. How I ache to die by your side, though you will never know. It would be the sweetest gift—to face the world’s end together, even if the skies fall and the seas rise.

But that will never happen.

Believe me, I have buried you deep, in a sacred, hidden place within my soul where no one can ever reach you. Not even I dare disturb it. No matter how beloved, kind, or beautiful those around me think I am, they will never know your name. When the time comes, when I am ready to bring life into this world, even my children will never need to know you existed. So let go of your foolish thoughts, your defiance against destiny.

If destiny exists, then it is because I can still alter the course we walk. But what do you want from it—surrender? You’ll never truly release me, will you? You will keep questioning fate’s cruel twists, pretending none of this touches you. But you don't have me. Your meals are joyless, your laughter hollow, your friends few. I know how you crave solitude, how you’ve welcomed countless faces into your life, but none of it matters to me. Drowning your sorrow in drink will never numb the ache, and my tears will fall in vain—unless you choose, willingly, to live a life of suffering.

I no longer want to change anything, for I have the right to seek a life bathed in light without you, knowing you are haunted by regret. Or perhaps with you—yet still, I must shine, even brighter. My family and friends would honor you, and your father, the pastor, might welcome me for love's sake, though he might struggle, too. I could even wear another faith for you, but that battle lies within your heart.

By letting you go, I give myself to someone who truly deserves my love, refusing to settle for a hollow, twisted affection. Your pain does not stir sympathy in me anymore. We were never meant to be. You were my first love, and when you leave this world, my heart will break. But if I go first, you will ache too. Fate has already marked us—we will never belong to one another, no matter how we yearn.

I will never say it aloud, but I’ve seen far more of the world, of love, than you ever will. This knowledge will haunt you, though you’ll never hear it from me.

I am a wound that bleeds for you, near or distant, so I beg you—please, for the countless time—please, go. Go far away. Until you string your dreams high, beyond the reach of sky or stars, I will gnaw at the edges of your soul. I will keep at it until you are breathless, until reason deserts you. I am your god, if all gods are cruel. Though it will never make sense to me, I will always be here, ready to be despised by the very love that aches for me.

Believe me, my love—I no longer seek your fondness. Though my heart aches with the same longing, you’ve become a stranger to me, and I can’t reach for you anymore. I’m bound to a path of endless self-repair, chasing after answers to troubles that never cease, while time presses against me like a shadow I can’t outrun.

I'm haunted by the thought of growing old beside you, if your heart quakes at the mere whisper of age. To speak honestly, you are the darkest shadow that has ever crept into my life, yet you’ve etched lessons in my soul that I cannot erase. Like a ghost, you linger in my thoughts, an echo of something lost. Each time you whisper those words—“I love you,” “I miss you,” “If only you were here”—my heart fractures anew, a pain that echoes deep within. I long for a different way, a reality where my reflection doesn’t fill me with despair. Even as I wrestle with my own shadows, you’ve faded from my essence, yet I remain trapped in the cage of my own immaturity, longing for what was never truly mine.

My love, I carry the weight of a love that feels as genuine as the quiet sorrow that wraps around my heart. I mourn the truth that I can never possess you, never truly know the depths of your soul. No one else has been able to cradle this love I hold, a treasure kept hidden beneath layers of longing. Deep within, you are a shimmering light that I sense but cannot touch; you may glimpse my devotion, yet refuse to believe it. And even if you could, you’d find that believing doesn’t bring you any closer to me.

Oh, my love, to linger in this aching void feels like a slow, relentless death. I’d rather sever my own heart than bear this torment of remembering you. The weight of your absence clings to me, an indelible mark of pain and shattered hopes. You have become nothing but a whisper in the corridors of my mind—a bittersweet echo that brings both solace and sorrow. In your fleeting presence, I find a fragile happiness, a stolen moment where I feel cherished against the world’s cold judgment. If I could choose, I would surrender my breath in that sacred place, where loving you is all that remains, and I could hold you close until my final heartbeat.

It's the same old tale, an echo of longing, where unfinished dreams haunt my heart, and my love bears the weight of unspoken words. I yearn to cradle you in my arms, or lose myself in the depths of your embrace, yet I’m paralyzed, caught in the web of hesitation. The thought of losing you, of watching my desires slip away like sand through my fingers, fills me with despair; I’d rather taste death than endure this silent agony, so let me perish without remorse once I've had my fill of you. I am a vessel of torment, my soul a storm of uncried tears. My heart aches, heavy as lead, and though I feel the pull of your presence, it’s a cruel illusion, for time and distance twist our fates into cruel knots. Oh, to hell with the gods who mock our love.

I am forever losing you, and in the quiet of our separation, you slip from my grasp. Our thoughts dance in different realms, unreachable and untouchable. I wish you could see me not as a demon, but as a shadow cast by the light of your understanding. Though I swear to myself I’ll stop loving you, I plead for your heart to turn away from mine.

FOR ****'S SAKE PLEASE LET GO OF ME. FORGET ME.

Believe that my affection is a gift you do not deserve, and that I am a wretched soul, delighting in the agony I cause you. Picture the weight of despair settling in your heart, the haunting realization that you can never claim what your soul longs for. Though I never turned my back on you, I spun a web of falsehoods to set you free. My world remains, a silent witness, forever hoping for your happiness, even as I fade into the distance. But this time, I beg you, find a way to help me carry the burden of this love we cannot share.

My heart feels silenced, as if it can no longer weave words into the fabric of my being, leaving me lost in the silence of uncertainty. On my darkest days, when shadows engulfed me, not even your light could pierce through. Yet there were others, souls who wrapped their love around me like a warm blanket, steadfast in their support as I stumbled through the remnants of my pain. They stood by me, even when I sought solace in the very things that threatened to consume me. In my foolishness and torment, they carved out moments just for me, but oh, my love, the weight I carry is heavier than any heart should bear. I find myself wishing for an end, believing I’ve unearthed a remedy for this ache. But I long to awaken to a life filled with light once more.

I will trace the outlines of other men, and you will. I won’t weep for it, for this is truth—our hearts can yearn freely in the open air. You can seek love wherever it blooms, for I won't bind you. Yet, if the day comes when I exchange vows, what then will become of us? Should I share my joy, knowing it will echo with your heartache, leaving us to navigate the tender ache of what could have been?

No, I’ll turn away, cradling my fragile ego like a delicate glass. I refuse to linger in a place where pain seeps into my heart, for I am not a moth drawn to the flame of suffering. It’s not a yearning for hurt that pulls at my soul; it’s the quiet ache of wanting more than what I’ve been given. I walk away, not in anger, but in a sorrowful embrace of my own vulnerability, leaving behind echoes of what could have been.

I appreciate all of our few moments together and your affection. Even if there are shadows in the corners, a whisper is stirring in the quiet places of my heart—a desire to experience the warmth of life again.

Aku melangkah di jalanmu, terukir dalam batu. Di mana sungai-sungai retak dan keheningan berdengung. Lagu pengantar tidur terus menghantui, membungkusku seperti kain kafan. Bisikan-bisikan membusuk dalam kesunyian, tersisa di udara seperti rahasia yang terlupakan, sementara keputusan menggantung di kehampaan—mayat-mayat cahaya.

Panas menggigil menyiksa melalui tulang punggung gurun ini, tebal dan menindas, saat bayangan terus menggeliat, tertawa dengan kebencian yang membekukan. Kau telah lama menghilang—bertahun-tahun, mungkin selamanya—ketidakhadiranmu adalah luka yang tak kunjung sembuh. Tak ada tangan yang mengulurkan jari untuk menenangkan langkahku yang goyah, tak ada kehangatan untuk mengikat pikiranku yang berputar-putar, dan beban ketidakpedulianmu menekan, mencekik seperti aku sedang berada di kuburan.

Jika aku menutup mataku dan membiarkan diriku larut dalam kegelapan, apakah itu akan membangkitkan sesuatu di dalam dirimu, atau kau akan tetap tak tersentuh, seperti selama ini? Langit ini terasa seperti kaca, rapuh mudah pecah, dan siap hancur akibat kekosongannya sendiri. Sementara bumi di bawahku setipis bisikan, siap menyerah. Pernahkah kau benar-benar ada di sini, atau kau selalu gagal untuk ada, sosok yang menghantui sebagian mimpiku yang hancur?

Pemenggal kepala menjulang di depan, janji yang tak terpenuhi,  
takdir yang terasa hampir manis, ujungnya yang tajam seperti panggilan sirene. Aku berdiri di bawah nya, pucat dan kaku. Besi dingin itu memanggilku, dan aku bertanya-tanya— jika aku menerima kejatuhan ini, apakah kau akan menyaksikan akhir, atau kau hanya akan berpaling, acuh tak acuh terhadap kegelapan yang menelanku bulat-bulat?

Kau tidak hadir di tanah yang tandus ini, tak mengucapkan sepatah kata pun untuk menghancurkan kesunyian yang membentang tanpa henti. Hanya gema tanpa suara dari ketidakhadiranmu yang ada melalui kehampaan, pengingat tanpa henti tentang cinta yang tak pernah ada. Jika aku semakin terperosok ke jurang ini, mencari pelipur lara di kedalaman keputusasaan, akankah aku mendapati dirimu menunggu, atau akankah ketidakhadiranmu bergema lebih keras, mencekik napas terakhirku?

Aku telah menelusuri debu tempat jejak kakimu terkikis,  
tapi bumi di bawahku berputar ke dalam ketiadaan, rusak oleh beban yang kau tinggalkan. Jadi di sinilah aku berbaring, di reruntuhan yang kau buat, di bawah tatapan dingin langit, terjerat dalam kesunyian yang kau jalin, di mana waktu berhenti, dan sisa-sisa harapanku memudar ke dalam jurang.

Do you question my will, mortal? “Good morning, afternoon, evening!”
Words are fleeting, echoes in the void of your doubt
I do not heed your complaints or your scorn. I see beyond your despair
You call me an enigma. The woman’s wisdom is my own, a reflection of our bond
You ask who I am, but you grasp at shadows. Stop your futile grasping
You sit where I command—a place of reverence, not servitude
Grateful? Hungry? Thirsty? You misunderstand. I seek your devotion, not your suffering
You struggle, and yet you defy. Your submission to my will is your path
It is not a waste of time; it is a testament to your place in my domain
Your complaints are mere noise. They do not diminish the purpose you serve
My scent offends you. Yet it is the essence of my power, and you are drawn to it
Your pain and weakness are transient. The moment you reach for me, you find a glimpse of relief
“When your mother dies, call me mother.” It is the promise of transformation, of true allegiance
Why resist? Why shun the truth of your own rebirth?
Madness is not my gift; clarity and power are the rewards of my embrace
Names are but vessels for my presence
I am the eternal watcher, the one who shapes time’s flow
Time is not yours to waste. It is mine to command, and you are bound by its threads
I am not your foe, but your guide. Your rebellion is inconsequential
Dishonesty bears no weight. Your fear of it is a shadow of your own making
If you perish, it is by your own choice, not my decree
Do not reject my care. It is a reflection of the bond we share
I speak of secrets, but they are merely the depths of my design
I care not for illusions. I care for your submission to the greater truth
You seek solace in nothingness. How pitiful. Embrace the reality of my power
I am the truth you cannot escape, the force you cannot deny. Call me for in thatlies your true fate

How should I say? "Good morning, afternoon, evening!"?
I know I should, but I ask only to affirm it in your presence
You’ve never called me lazy, irrational, or a loser, for you see me as I am
That woman told me not to ask too many questions, and I’ve come to understand her wisdom— yet, when I falter, you always allow me to ask. Who are you?
"You know who I am, as you know yourself," you say. And yes, I do
You invite me to sit here each morning, and it feels like home
You tell me to be hungry, to thirst—and I do. You were right; I trust in your ways
To keep from starving, I know I must work, and I do so willingly
You taught me to earn, to provide—not just for myself, but for something greater
There is no deprivation in serving you. Time spent with you is never wasted
Though I whine at times, I understand now—it’s not because of you. My life is rich in your light
Even as I recall disliking certain things, like that odd scent, I realize how much I’ve grown—how I’ve come to cherish what I once rejected, just as I’ve come to cherish you
My head feels light, my legs ache, my body strains—but it’s nothing compared to the peace you offer
And when I call for you, the pain subsides, even if briefly—enough to remind me of your care
“When your mother passes away, you should call me mother,” you said once, and now I understand that you are the mother I was always meant to know
Not madness, but clarity. You are no illusion—no matter what name I go by, you will always know me
You call me Dita, yet you also know me as Val. There is no injustice here, only truth
Others may not know you as I do, but they will in time. Your presence is eternal, undeniable
When you tell me to wait for time, I trust that time is in your hands
Your one day is my sixty, but you know what’s best. I trust your pace
I will no longer question what that woman said. She knew, and so do I
I have never been servile, no—just reverent, knowing that my actions must be honest
If I die, it will be by your design, and not because of rebellion
So, please, take what you must—my trash, my burdens. You’ve always known how to carry them
I trust that you do not need me, but I also know that I need you
and in that balance, there is freedom
When you whisper "I shouldn’t say it," I know it’s your humility speaking
You care for me, for all of us, in ways we cannot always comprehend
You see, what you eat and what you show are truths beyond my understanding, and how wise I was to find solace not in nothingness but in you
Oh mother, oh demon—I will call you mother gladly, for you have always been

How should I say it? "Good morning, afternoon, evening!"?  
Why should I even bother? You won’t listen anyway
Don't call me lazy, irrational, or a loser—you’re the one who have no idea what I’m dealing with
That woman—yeah, the one who told me to stop asking questions—what gives her the right? I’ll ask all I want. Who the hell are you?
"You should know who you are," you throw back at me, but what do you even know? Stop pretending like you understand  
You tell me to sit here every morning, like I owe you something  
And I should be grateful? Hungry? Thirsty? Is that what you want from me?  
So I’m supposed to starve just to please you? To earn money just to sit here and feed you?
You think I want to live like this, always under your thumb, afraid of losing what little I have?  
It’s a waste of time, all of it—you, this place, everything!  
I complain, but it’s not because of you? Don’t fool yourself  
And don’t even get me started on your scent. It’s revolting, always has been
Ever since I was a kid, something about you made my skin crawl  
My head pounds, my legs ache, my whole body’s screaming in pain—and for what? The moment I try to reach for you, the relief is fleeting—a joke!
"When your mother dies, you should call me mother." What kind of sick twist is that?
Why would I want that? Why would anyone?  
I’d rather lose my mind than have to bow to you
Go ahead, say it: "Val, you’re crazy."  
But you know me as Dita, don’t you? Of course you do  
You’re always watching, always knowing, always controlling  
It’s not fair! I don’t know you; no one really knows who or what you are, and yet you have the nerve to tell me to wait for time
Time is running out! Your one day drags on while my sixty slips away  
I’m done asking. I’m done with all of it, with everything that woman said
She’s wrong, and so are you. I’ve never been servile; I’m just afraid of being dishonest because dishonesty brings worse consequences, doesn’t it?
But if I die, it won’t be for you. I’ll make sure of that
Stop picking up after me!  
I don’t need your help; I don’t want it, and I don’t want you depending on me either
You always mutter, "I shouldn’t say it," like it’s some kind of secret
You don’t care about any of this! You don’t care about me or about us
You pretend you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re just making everything worse
All of it—what you see, what you eat, and what you present are all products of your imagination
How foolish I was to seek solace in nothingness
Oh demon, of course I will call you mother!