...waking up is the hardest part.
My words have been a silent alibi of the flood of feelings crashing down my door. I'm very lost on trail that should be directional. I've almost given up on what I shouldn't and I've given in to what makes me weak.
I don't suppose I'll ever truly know the meaning of happiness or what it even feels like. I'm an outcast of my own doing. Pushing away any shred of hope of having anyone close.
Holidays are the hardest part, seeing all the family photos of friends and people I've met along the way all dressed up and happy with their own little lives and their own little families.
I'm alone, sad, and seeing only darkness. Part of me wants to see that darkness forever and to never wake from it again.
My words have been a silent alibi of the flood of feelings crashing down my door. I'm very lost on trail that should be directional. I've almost given up on what I shouldn't and I've given in to what makes me weak.
I don't suppose I'll ever truly know the meaning of happiness or what it even feels like. I'm an outcast of my own doing. Pushing away any shred of hope of having anyone close.
Holidays are the hardest part, seeing all the family photos of friends and people I've met along the way all dressed up and happy with their own little lives and their own little families.
I'm alone, sad, and seeing only darkness. Part of me wants to see that darkness forever and to never wake from it again.
