Sometimes, helping others sinks you; you lose yourself after it ends
Maybe if I was more selfish, I could have stayed longer.
If I was busier, I wouldn’t be paranoid.
If I knew someone that loved me like I loved them, I wouldn’t be distraught.
My limits weren’t my limits; they were my parents.
Not true. I never stood up to them.
Did I really love you if I never stood up for you?
In the end, the problem was me; I wasn’t careful.
We lost our spark.
I’m too emotional, I still chased you.
I was too comfortable. I was a big shot. I was wrong.
But it doesn’t matter now, I’m moving on.
Everyone I was with, I helped.
Now that I’m with me, I can help myself.
I can love myself the way nobody ever could.
I’m no longer sinking.
I’ve plugged the vessel.
I’m carefree.
I use to be the kid that motivated.
And it’s my goal to become him again.
In the end, the small things will remind.
They remind.
In the end, everything will be fine.