Well what was I supposed to do?
Fight?
You really think I'm that crazy, that fearless, that brave?
They say there are three kinda of heartbreak.
No.1 When someone is clumsy with your heart and drops it, breaking it into 1000 pieces.
No.2 When you break someones heart. Having to look into their eye and turn them away.
No.3 When your heart breaks everyday by watching the person you love love someone else.
These are all viable theories but I disagree.
We are the breakers of out own hearts.
We are responsible for our own catastrophes,
and thats just it.
Maybe thats why it hurts so bad,
because its my fault.
I do it to myself.
I probably shouldn't be so ******* myself though.
If you're hurting now its because you did it,
you alone.
I won't ever know though.
Maybe thats what really hurts.
The so many "ifs".
The so many questions.
Perhaps I get my sad sop of a life published one day
and by fortune you find yourself reading it.
Perhaps the assumption of your affections for me infuriates you,
or perhaps you weep for loves long lost.
Perhaps in the future in we cross paths again when we're ready.
When we're good and ready.
Or we don't,
and I don't,
and you don't care,
you never cared.
I was right,
its the questions.
Why do you think people enjoy adrenaline rushes so much?
Is it the surge of fear,
impending death,
or the relief that follows?
Why do we keep hurting ourselves?
Because it feels so ****** good when it stops.
Real Nirvana isn't the answering of the questions,
but the decision to stop asking them.
Unfortunately enough every thought is tainted with your ghost.
You follow me around,
your name incessantly whispered behind my back.
So until I reach Nirvana is a lifetime away.
One in which I hope you return into
because I'm afraid I do like you a whole lot and I'm afraid I do not like it one bit.