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he doesn't love me anymore. he did, but i waited too long. i missed my chance because i was with someone else. i sacrificed more than i knew by staying with the emperor and trying to fix him. now i have nothing. except regret. i finally have a regret, and it's one that will eat me from the inside out until the day i die. i've lost them both. i gave everything i had to the wrong one, and now i have neither.
the emperor has taken my car away, clipped my wings. he's charging me rent and splitting our account, severing that last connection. this should have upset me deeply. but i don't care. i don't care about anything anymore. i don't care about school. i don't care about work. i don't even care about my book. my book, the one thing that has repeatedly pulled my head above water. i woke up and realized that even writing brings me no joy anymore. i don't care about being a writer anymore, or seeing my novel finished or in print.
food is ash in my mouth. my sleep is restless and exhausting. i see my friends, so full of love for me, and i feel nothing but tired because i know i should smile for them. they all try so hard to cheer me, i should at least smile for them. but i'm dead inside. i've never felt as empty as i do now. i've never been so without hope. the spark has gone out of me. it's been growing smaller and smaller, and it has finally winked out. i'm truly, and completely dead inside. now i just wish the rest of me would hurry up and follow.
i once made a promise that i wouldn't kill myself, and that's the only reason i'm here to type this. i keep my promises. but i never promised anyone that i wouldn't self-destruct. that i would be careful, rational, and safe. i never promised i wouldn't smoke, drink, drug, and fuck myself to death. i never promised to be smart. and so, if i must be stuck here, each day worse than the last, i might as well set myself on fire and burn the rest of this candle down. i have nothing else to lose. since i can't send myself to hell, i might as well bring it here.
the emperor has taken my car away, clipped my wings. he's charging me rent and splitting our account, severing that last connection. this should have upset me deeply. but i don't care. i don't care about anything anymore. i don't care about school. i don't care about work. i don't even care about my book. my book, the one thing that has repeatedly pulled my head above water. i woke up and realized that even writing brings me no joy anymore. i don't care about being a writer anymore, or seeing my novel finished or in print.
food is ash in my mouth. my sleep is restless and exhausting. i see my friends, so full of love for me, and i feel nothing but tired because i know i should smile for them. they all try so hard to cheer me, i should at least smile for them. but i'm dead inside. i've never felt as empty as i do now. i've never been so without hope. the spark has gone out of me. it's been growing smaller and smaller, and it has finally winked out. i'm truly, and completely dead inside. now i just wish the rest of me would hurry up and follow.
i once made a promise that i wouldn't kill myself, and that's the only reason i'm here to type this. i keep my promises. but i never promised anyone that i wouldn't self-destruct. that i would be careful, rational, and safe. i never promised i wouldn't smoke, drink, drug, and fuck myself to death. i never promised to be smart. and so, if i must be stuck here, each day worse than the last, i might as well set myself on fire and burn the rest of this candle down. i have nothing else to lose. since i can't send myself to hell, i might as well bring it here.
