and i realized today
how much effort it takes
to love me

because when i do not
love myself
you have to love me
enough for two people

I read one line and was amazed by what was contained in a few simple lines.
Surely she must be quite understanding, and if we were to talk,
She'd say she knows what I mean.

"Like I'm falling from a bridge, but never hitting the ground."

Maybe as she wrote it, it may not have seemed like much to her.
It could have been just another analogy, just extra words to add some syllables or fill in space.
But when I read that, I thought "Where have those words been all this time?"

That's exactly what I've been feeling for quite a time, but I hadn't said it,
I just didn't identify it until this moment, with that clarification, I'm already interested.

She must be quite one soul.

Five years ago I died.
I don't know if I revived.

****, thirteen really was hard,
But it was the best played card.

Seems like every day in the past
Still continues, overlaps, and lasts.

I don't know if I'm living in the future,
Or staying behind like an immobile creature.

I don't know what happened.
I don't know what's happening.

People just come and people just go,
'Cause relative to arrival, departure is slow.

You want to see the reality of me?
Good luck finding it, if it may be.

I died five years ago.
Nobody noticed.

My mom said she loves me.
My father did, too.

I think I believed her more than him.
I think he only cares about himself.

That's were I got my **** from.
I can't say I'm better than that.

It's all I was taught.
And now it's hard to get rid of it.

I'm pretty gone, now.
Trying to get rid of some things erased me.

It was an overshot,
But it was a shot.

I say **** a lot of things.
A lot people say **** me.

But I'm not them.
They're not me.

What does it mean to be lost?
I might be, even though I thought I found my way.

I thought I stood up,
To get off the ground.

I think it was *****.
That must've been it.

But I think I just crawled into a chair.
I'm a pretty lazy guy.

From a couple feet higher,
I can see where to go.

But without my feet carrying me,
I can't go anywhere.

And though I know a lot of things,
Getting all the way isn't one of them.

I think I died one day.
It may have been five years ago.

I've met the same person eight million times.
She didn't exist.

I did a lot for her.
She was inside my head.

I did a lot for me.
'Cause I'm not quite selfless.

But I could be.
Could I be?

I don't know.
I don't know a lot of things.

It makes me unsure.
It makes me unsafe.

One day that will **** me.
If I'm still alive.

But I think I died one day.
It was maybe two years ago.

Five years ago, I wanted to die.
But only two years ago, my heart stopped beating.

It was all a process.
It was a matter of time.

'Cause no death is instantaneous,
But it happens in a single instant.

I think I still exist.
If not, there'd be no head for this to be in.

It's not all just inside my head.
That's one thing I'm sure of.

But not completely sure.
Only a little bit.

She left two years ago.
She's not here anymore.

I made a new her two years ago.
She's inside my head.

She left two years ago.
I met her seven million nine hundred ninety nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine times after.

But only for an instant each time.
Then she would always turn into another person.

I got used to the phrase.
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

I wished she'd come back.
But not anymore.

I died two years ago.
She'd be wasting her time here.

But maybe she wouldn't be.
She wouldn't come for me after all.

She would come for other people.
To see people that surely still exist.

Why waste time on the dead?
Better to waste time on the living.

I might not be either of them,
Since I might not exist anymore.

Or I might.
I might still be a few songs, some words on a page, and some marijuana smoke.

I don't know a lot of things.
So I can't be sure of anything.

I started dying five years ago and might have finished two.
I don't know if revived, if I ever made through.

I speak, but I can't because words fail me

I jump, but I'm always pulled down by gravity

I reach, but an invisible voice tells me I'm too small, don't even try

I cry, but my tears are parched and dry

I scream, but all that comes out is air

I bleed, but the bleeding is clogged

I run, but the farthest I get is to the floor

I gasp. This can't last.

Time is my enemy.

How to not disgrace my existence? what resistance is stopping me besides myself?