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And it’s because all you can do is complain. And all you say feels like blame pushed on to me.
And it was the third of the month and you didn’t care.
And feelings didn’t seem to matter. My feelings.
And I cried, my god I cried.
And every time you tell me I’m wrong, I suffer, it’s like I’m being punished for something I’ve never
done.
And I hate it every time you think I can’t tell you’re high. And you should know I always know.
And I’ll remember that “you’re always right.”
And I know that you being wrong would be the end of the world, but, oh yeah, that could never be the
case.
And it’s been so long since you looked at me. It’s been so long since you said you cared.
And it’s not that you haven’t said anything that hurts me.
And the sad part is that I can’t fix our problem, because every problem has a starting point splitting into
different directions. And the different directions are too far apart.
And thinking about the end scares me more than anything ever could.
And I hate thinking about things like that, the end.
And the end, it just brings some sort of happiness at the same time.
And that makes me feel even worse. To feel so s***ty about making a choice that could make me happier.
And it’s depressing to think that crying in your arms would mean nothing to you, only thinking about the
tears I’m staining on your shirt.
And I know things could get better.
And I know that if I told you all of this, you would change how you act around me.
And that’s the worst part; it’s maybe that I don’t want it to change that’s making me feel this way.
And that pain and suffering would probably kill you.
And I can’t help it.
And I don’t think I want to change how I feel.
And in all this mess, something can be learned.
And I need someone to intervene.
And because everyone has turned away, I know that no one cares what I do.
And I can do whatever I want to do.
And you’re not here to help me, are you?
And I don’t know if you ever were.
And if you ever cared, it wasn’t because you were happy.
And it wasn’t because I gave you what you wanted.
And it definitely wasn’t because we had the same morals.
And so I don’t know how much it matters to me what you think.
And who knows, in the end, what will happen. Because I like to act on impulse.
And yet, in the final moments, I doubt anything will change.
And I’ve turned to people, looking for answers, answers to my questions.
And because I can put all this down on paper, I feel like it’s a better listener that you ever were.
And that puts my mind at ease.
And through all the mental battles.
And through all the fights and words unsaid, I know that many things will never change.
And through all of this, I think I may still love you.





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