i am the pit of this world, the axle upon which everyone rotates and floats around unknowingly. silently. resentfully. empty. i live in an electrified symphony of broken-hearted people and dramatic interludes. when i invest my love in a loveless client, i break down and write sad poems on black abysmal pages--but it's no secret that i'm lonely. you can't read my cryptically acclaimed shamed happiness, but please let me show you my sorrows.
and why must i save you from yourself? why must i even care? can't you see that i am happy, and that you do nothing but ruin my day with your concern for me and your immature emotions? there is nothing wrong with me--i am obviously and blatantly flawless--but it is humanity that suffers these rude ailments and sores. let me map out for you a list of your wrongs and how you have hurt me.
i want to hear you say you're sorry.
i want you to change for me, because how you are right now just won't cut it. i loved you once. back in november and for christmas and new years. why did you change into this all-knowing, self righteous asshole? i'll pretend to stay away. i know you are wrong, but i'll forgive you and return someday into your cold and unfeeling arms. you know i will return. i hate you. i hate you. but i need you still. i feel like i'm a battered housewife who can't get out of this abusive home. you break me.
you break me.
and break me...
and break me.
i am just so...
delicate.
