I used to never cry.
I was so proud of myself then.
I used to make everyone happy,
and I mean everyone.
But I placed too much faith in my fair-weather fans,
because it has begun to rain
slowly
drop
drop
drop
and people are leaving
one
less
friend.
If it helps at all, I hate who I've become, too.
I am every kind of fucked up a person can be.
I've been high at least once a day for the past who knows how long.
I have stopped working out.
I stopped singing,
I stopped making art.
I stopped writing.
I stopped taking those stupid pills,
because some part of me thought it would help
like I'd remember what it felt like
to feel alive
once all the chemicals flushed themselves out of my system.
(Nope.)
These days, I simply have to choose between failing
and suffering through it
or failing
and being totally fine with it.
Whatever.
I have no idea who the fuck I am anymore.
Neither do my friends, or my family.
I am here in form, but not in spirit.
So, quickly, while I've no memories to leave behind
shall I quietly take my leave?