It's not the amount of love I show to you and prove to you that is overwhelming,
it's the lack of love and respect you show to me and the staggering amount of your ******* I put up with.
I believe you when you say you love me.
I've believed you when you said you love me for the best four years.
I believe when you say that we could never work out.
Why ruin a good thing?
After all, that is what we have: a good thing.
So why am I so bitter?

Why do I not allow myself to sleep at night?
Not allow myself to put out the cigarette or stop myself from lighting the next?
Why do I not stop myself from uncorking the bottle or chugging longingly.
Why do I allow myself to be so angry at the world and at myself.

I ******* hate everything.
myself.
you.
the world.
my parents.
my friends.
the ****** bands.
the good bands.

This constant state of nothingness is starting to weigh down on me so I fill it with the bottles.
I fill it with the cigarettes and the hatred.
You?
Me?
Why?
After all, what we have is a good thing.

Isn't it?