So what if I am broken down, knocked out, miserable, fucked up, fallen apart and destroyed? It's ok darling, of course it is, since I freaking live in this scenery every day. Does it even matter? Did it make sense any time? No, it fucking didn't. It slapped the hell out of me everytime I realised I was hurt. And I know the answer, "in the end, it doesn't even matter". Yes, indeed, too bad this time it actually does!
I am supposed to be able to breath, right? I should feel the air into my lungs and I should be able to breathe. Except that I am not. And nothing seems good enough to keep me together.
Yet, I am still alive.
0 com.:
Trimiteţi un comentariu