i am atlas, carrying your world on my shoulders,
crushed by guilt and fear and hatred and pain and it
hurts, it fucking hurts to be the one
who has to hold you up.
and you don't even see it, maybe that's
the hardest part. you never even notice
how your burden pulls me a p a r t,
slowly, unbearably.

and as we sit in the car and you complain to me,
what am i supposed to say?