It's so ironic
how I look at you
hoping for you
to look back at me

but when our eyes meet
I look away
because I don't want you to
see how much I need you

Staring out the windowpane
Trying to get rid of pain

Pain that once was joy from you
Now I'm thinking what to do

Never thought we'd fall apart
You got up and broke my heart

You walked out and said goodbye
Trying hard just not to cry

Thought we were the perfect two
but you left without a clue

Promised me a forever
Then left me for another.

I hate how you told me goodbye,
and thought I wouldn't cry.

I hate that I had to pretend,
that I expected it to end.

I hate how you saw me cry and run,
but didn't bother to chase me.

I hate how I thought you'd do that,
and realise you still loved me.

I hate that it didn't work out,
the way I wanted it to.

I hate that I what I thought was love,
was a lie and wasn't true.

I hate how everything you said,
still lives in my thoughts in my head.

I hate that at the end of the day,
your ghost appears as if to stay.

You're my hero,
my saviour,
my light.

You gave me a reason
to live,
to fight.

You lit my path,
my way,
my world.

Even when I cry,
shout,
or go berserk.

You stood by,
took my hand,
held me closer.

You gave my life meaning,
reason,
definition.

You are the one.

I try to feel
but when I do
I get hurt
so I try not to

But what if

What if one day
I find it
That one thing
We all think we have
because we all want it so bad

What if I find
true happiness.
Is it real?

Yes. I've thought of it.
Even dreamt of it.
And eventually attempted.

But no matter how deep
in **** I am
I know that this ****
was made for me
by me
and to be conquered
only by me.

I'm special that way.

Maybe I'd **** myself later
or tonight
or tomorrow
maybe even next week
or a month from now
or even a year.

But then that would mean
that all the ****
that I did
to start again
would be wasted.

So no,
I'm tired of running.
from this sick life,
and the stupid lemons it keeps throwing

Where the hell does it even get the lemons.

Whenever I ***** up,
I'd try to fix it.

And when it's all good,
I ***** it up again.

Because I'm never satisfied,
with myself and my work.

So I ruin it,
to start again.

I do ****.
I get ****.
and I know I deserve it.
But you'd always.
ALWAYS.

see me complaining,
shouting,
and eventually,
laughing at myself.

Because all of it is pointless.

I'd say I tried.
But then I'd be lying.

Sometimes I'm good.
Sometimes I'm bad.

It depends on how much energy.
I'd want to spend.

To try.
To not try.
To ***** up.

And to not ***** up.

It's not hormones.
I'm not bipolar.
It's not just depression.

Everyday. I struggle.
I see a lot of them cut.
I see them die.
I see them go crazy.

Some survive.
Some find someone. or something.
To hold them down to Earth.
Keep them wanting to fight.
Keep them wanting to live.

I never did.