and why do people always feel like it hurts them the most
to tell me that it won't work out?
you are so selfish to think that you breaking my heart is the
worst thing that you can do, the worst thing that is happening,
the most horrid sound must be the sound of me choking,
"what did i do wrong?"
but, love, if i can even call you that anymore, perhaps, i should
call you loved, or so i'll try to convince myself for the next while -
i wish my absence would have left a foul taste in your mouth, but it looks
like i just leak mediocre, i am just like all the ******* others, never
meant something, anything, nothing particularly special to you;
i was always forgettable from the beginning, it seems you had
already forgotten that i had known this all along,
when you told me you'd loved me too early anyways.
i never had the ability to leave an impression, i was
never the type, i was always just a type, a kind of person you knew
you'd easily forget, the kind of person you were eager to love and use
because i'd never capture your heart the way you knew would hurt
in the end. in the end, by the end, you knew this was coming, you
knew i wouldn't expect you to throw me away, but although
i knew, in the end, this would happen, it still hurts anyways,
god, it ******* kills me anyways, like day one, it's like day one again.