THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
You throw out words that are the most important to me.
And I like that once you aren't invading every second of my waking conscience, you get into my sleep. Who are you? 'And if he doesn't exist, then I guess I don't either'... It gets to be too much.
Sometimes, I begin to believe that nothing even exists, and then I have to spend so much time alone with myself.
I forget that tomorrow will happen, and that I still have a whole year of waiting. And I forget that things aren't already how they should be and that I still have to figre out how to get there. I have ends with no means. In everything I have.
I hate knowing what exists is there and I don't have it. It makes me look down on what I have now. I look at their faces and compare them all to something that isn't even real.
Yet. Real yet.
Or at all. I don't know.
Next week doesn't matter, next month doesn't matter, next year doesn't matter.
I can't even explain. It never stops, not even when I sleep.