The ironic part is,

I can't stop caring.

Even now.

I know, it's stupid

It's childish

It's clueless

It's

Me.

"That's just the way I roll",

Is what he'd say;

So clueless.

Convinced that somewhere,

Somehow,

Everything would be fine.

Fat.

Fucking.

Chance.

Each time I close my eyes,

I'm forced to re-watch memories of better times,

Of January, of happiness and nights that never ended;

Of mornings that never seemed to come too soon.

I remember seeing you again,

I was terrified

I was overjoyed.

I was tying my own fucking noose.

Oh, and you'll say you see it

Promise you understand

And try to console me by saying things

Like "You're so Lucky"

And "Don't give up what you have".

And what exactly do I have?

Arguments over nothing? Ignoring everything?

Knife wounds and bruises and too much blood on my carpet?

Fuck you.

I've got a lead weight dragging me back into misery,

I've got attachments that would make a madman laugh

I've got so many problems

I'm amazed that you're not in love with me.

With your messiah-complex,

Your need to be needed that mirrors mine

Oh, we're the same monster, Honey.

Cut from the same wretched cloth,

Just

You've got a few less holes.

You're still usable,

You're still worth

SOMETHING.

ANYTHING.

Running away from

NOTHING.

It's just like old times, isn't it baby?

Just like how it should be.

I'm watching you with someone else.

I'm setting my life on the side to watch you be happy,

To try and fix the problems you don't want to touch

To keep taping and re-taping something that's disintegrating.

Admit it,

I'm a fucking idiot.

Is it too late to apologize

For ever answering the door

On that August afternoon?

Is it too late to still say

"I Told you So"

Each time you swear you'll never hate me?

Is it too soon

For me to say goodbye,

To make things easier on every single one of you?

Is it too much to ask

That for once in my life,

Someone that I love stays around,

And actually wants to?