It's funny sometimes to realize

How little I've accomplished in the long run.

Still jobless,

Still plan-less,

Still less of myself than I've ever been.

Not forgetting,

Not moving on,

Not finding a way to fix these mistakes.

Your voice still floats in my head like a tumor,

Waking me up at night,

Torturing me through the day,

And contaminating every song we used to love.

I smelled your cologne the other day and it made me want to die,

Made me wish I could find you again just to kill you,

Had me wishing that I could just wake up and be two years in the past.

But, you've known me long enough to know

Those things don't happen.

Still helpless,

Still thoughtless

Still confused as fucking hell

As to who I am,

What label I should labor under,

Which lie I most closely resemble.

Because in the end,

You all realize,

I'm nothing more than a liar.

A fake.

A fraud.

A cheat.

I couldn't make it one way,

And I'm too scared to take the leap

Into my truth.

Too comfortable in discomfort,

And too piss-terrified to fix myself once and for all.

I've got no right to bitch,

But I still do,

Because that's WHAT I do.

Not loving,

Not knowing,

Not going anywhere.

At least, not without you.

There are times when I sit up at night,

Wasted and counting the cracks on the wall

Waiting for my phone to ring again,

For an apology

For closure


More lies?

More bullshit?
I'd be living on borrowed time.

Everything with you, I realize

Was borrowed.

Our love,

Whatever it was,

Was never even mine.

All I have of you are memories,

Memories that hurt deeper than anything I've known,

Memories that bring me to tears quicker than shit,

And memories I cherish with everything I have.

I'd kill to forget you,

But it would probably kill me.