why do i feel like i don’t want to be there as much as you don’t want me to be there?
why do i keep finding reasons to justify why i’m going to be there?
since when do i ever justify my existence anywhere to anyone else in the world?
does this mean
that we have become more like strangers now?
but that doesn’t hurt me as much as me having to be there
i guess i’m not that surprised.
i just wished that you don’t have to see me again.
i’m still breathing
but we’ve been dead for a while
this sickness has no cure
we’re going down for sure
already lost our grip
best abandon ship
i like the fact that when people leave,
i don’t ask them where they’re going or why.
because i don’t really feel like telling people where and why i’m going
whenever i leave.
which may not even matter because most of the time i’m the one who’s left behind.
sometimes i live like this. accepting without reason. declining without clarity.
if people come and tell me what they want or need i don’t have the impulse to ask them why.
today i realized that i just do things to avoid conflicts.
even when you’re not someone important to me
and i’m not someone important to you
and i don’t even like doing what i did for you
but i did it anyway
because things would be easier if i do.
because i don’t have to wrack my brains and deal with another cycle of cold shoulders and arguments and then feel drained over something so trivial.
i just am not looking forward to something like that.
so please understand that it’s not that i am a good person who does good things for the rest of the human population
it’s just that i find it easier to do so than to not do so.
because i don’t like spending my energy fighting for things that isn’t even significant in the course of a lifetime
i’m too in love with my time to give it away for something like that.
i don’t feel the need.
i just need a few days to get a few things sorted out (and i need to do it on my own).
i will decide. for me.
and feel like i deserve to feel what i’ve always wanted to feel.
how is it possible
that you’re telling me about what’s affecting you when you have no idea what’s killing me.
how is it possible for me
to pretend that i actually give a damn.
how is it possible that someone you’ve always wanted to hate
is the one person that you pour your heart to.
how is it possible
that you don’t even remember all the things that has passed between us in the past.
i am your perfect foe. i constitute every single thing that you detest.
i am the darkness to your light.
i am the wrongs to your right.
i am the problem. the flaw. the discarded. the used.
i am everything that you don’t want to be.
am i suddenly in this side of the lane
in this part of the story.
i’m not anybody’s hero.
aren’t i just another forgotten villain?
there is no “my side of the tale“. i just exist to keep the story going.