I can feel myself slipping, losing my grip on reality. Wendy day it gets worse. Every day I become a bit more out of touch. Every day an inch closer to ending it all. Every day I tell you how I feel. Every day I say "I'm done, I can't take it anymOre. Yet every day I wake from my bed, already regretting breaths not yet taken. Every day I wish a little harder that I could make it all stop. Yet not once have you said "it's okay I want to help". Not one single time I have told you about how I want to die have you ever asked me not to do it. Not one have you ever made me feel like I am still worth fighting for. Just like anyone else, I need to feel your live. Every day. But I don't. It used to be the only thing I had to live for. Now that I don't have that, what reason is there to keep breathing? Every day I think to myself, I can't do this. Every day I pray to good to take me away forever, to stop my heart one and for all. Every Damn day. You know how I feel, yet make no effort to change it. No effort to show me you really do still care. Every day I question if what we had was ever real, simply because of what I see from you. Every day. I cry myself to sleep most every night but you don't know that. It wouldn't make any difference to you either, even if you did know why. I can't do this anymore. Our days are numbered, but they weren't meant to be miserable. |
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