I know you said to not let it destroy me,
but you were far too late.
I don’t want to get better.
I don’t want to get better.
I don’t want to get better.
But I can.
I know I can.
Because I can choose.
I can choose to love when it hurts,
when it stings,
when it kills me.
I can choose to feel it all,
even though I’ve buried it beneath
the dirt of muddy memories
and worn out regrets.
I can choose to change the words
that try to claw their way out of holes
I’ve dug for the people I’ve hurt.
I can’t choose that it was you,
I could never choose that it was you.
But I can choose to be okay,
even though I’m not.