I came to the realization that: we're all just alone. We're all just kids searching for a little love, a little appreciation.

I also came to the realization that most promises made, are promises not kept.

No one is actually ever there for you. It's easier said than done, you know - being there.
No one to hold your hand, to hold it tight and tell you it's going to be okay.
Who dabs at the small pool that forms under your eyes when you finally feel as if it's not actually okay?
When your heart is broken, pounding in its cavity and your lungs have collapsed, drowning in sorrow and pain; whose arms wrap around you and hold it all together?
At night when you're laying in your dark room, curtains drawn from the world, staring at your dusty ceiling and that little voice is telling you how wrong you are, how worthless, how useless, how imperfect. Who tells you it's not true? That it's really all lies?
When you stare at your broken body through the mirror above your bathroom sink and you cry, horrified at what lies before you, who draws you in and tells you that you're beautiful?

When you're wishing for a plane to fall out of the sky and flatten you, for a car to momentarily veer off its path and crash into you. A stray bullet, a case of mistaken identity. All for release - however short.
The thoughts racing through you mind telling you this is how it should be, who tells you that you're worth it, that you mean something? That it will get better?
That you can make it?

What I'm trying to say is - you're with you 24/7.  You hold your own hand, wrap your scar possessed arms around your throbbing chest. You battle with yourself at night.
Only you are ever truly there for you.

Hold on. Be strong.
Take care of those beautiful eyes, that beautiful mind.
Be proud of who you are.