I figured if my heart stop beating, it wouldn’t hurt so bad.
I gave thoughts to opinions that didn’t matter. I listened to voices that knew nothing on the subject. I did the exact thing I knew I wasn’t suppose to do. But worst of all, I let myself believe it.
I took everything for granted. Even though I knew that’s what could end it.
I let myself be influence by anything and everything around me.
I tried to write a book that was already written.
I wasn’t being myself.
I was just a kid.
I want to invent a re-do button, but at the same time I don’t.
I want to be selfish, but that’s not what I am.
I want to get these thoughts, and emotions out, but the only person that would understand and could relieve this weight, hates me. So that part of my life will always be an “I don’t know.”
I just wish this, or any of this made sense.
Everything happens for a reason, but there’s no logic behind this.
I could write, type, or scream off the top off a hill about how much it hurts and how much I miss everything, but it wouldn’t change a thing.
All I hope you know is, throughout it all, the one thing I’m 100% positive about, is how much I cared about you. Everything about you. The bad, the ugly.
I’ll always carry this with me.
I didn’t know I had a soul, until I thought about where you made me feel happy.
I’ll always love you.
I fucked it all up.. and I know exactly how, and I would do it all over again and still regret every second.