Are you sure you're prescribing me the right medicine? You aren't the only one to just simply assume that what you have gathered to conceive mind is true. In fact, you're part of that majority population that looks at me and says to their own self, "That lazy ass bloat is a hell of an asshole! How could he ever love or be loved when he acts like that everyday?" The main question is, WHY WOULDN'T I?! I treate those others just like I'm treated, with no respect for them. Deep inside my heart, I do hurt. A lot of times, I imagine my hurt in this one certain way. Close your eyes for a moment and think about all of this hurt is acid, and this acid is put into a vat right inside your heart. After a while, this vat gets so full, it tips over and the acid eats your insides away. In other words, you hit depression. You eventually recover from the acide spill, but it tips over again and the whole process repeats. Now that's only twice right? That doesn't seem so bad. Imagine it being your whole life. That's when the denial, the short-comings, the mistakes, the choking up, and most importantly, the tears start coming back. Do you feel bad? You shouldn't. You see, I have a problem and this problem has to deal with extremely low self-esteem. It also has a big relationship with love. "What in the living bloom berries does this have to do with love," you may ask. It is because love is my own little attachment to life. It is what I grasp onto when times get hard, and those times are very frequent these days. It is the wishful solution to all my problems, or at least that's what I want to think. But you know, it seems every time I get so close to it, so close I can taste it, it's taken away from me as quick as a fire starts. Ripped out of my hands like stolen jewelry. This time, oh this time, I'm not taking it back. I'm not having it kill my life again. It lays waste to me as a cheating girlfriend would, or just as a parent who just found out their son is strictly into guys. Just like SHE did to me. All SHE had to say was bye, but no, more is needed. "I'm sorry to say I'm in love with someone else." Fuck "sorry", because we both knew SHE really wasn't. SHE sure as hell didn't love me anyways. It was all a lie, to keep me content, to keep me from hating, and especially to keep me from crying. You know what? I cried anyway, for HER. What was SHE worth? Was SHE worth the heart break?
Was SHE worth taking the medicine you gave me?
Was SHE worth the fucking medicine?
Are you?
