a Tuesday afternoon 4:31pm
He's hopeless in every beautiful way. Put together to question the whole purpose of existing. It may be true,
"I never asked to be here"
But no one has ever asked to live or to breathe and to survive in a world where immunity to worry is nonexistent. I was fascinated when he began to question himself,
"Is there something wrong with me?"
I've never heard him act so weak, it annoyed me. I had a strong urge to yell and disagree with the being that had been close to death multiple times. But that would only stain his heart darker.
Stupidly perfect he is, because although he may think he no longer matters he kind of means a whole lot to me.
"Would you care if I suddenly disappeared?"
"You'd probably forget"
Would I care?
Life wouldn't mean much with you not apart of it. I wanted to tell him, but I was afraid that if I spoke up my voice would tremble with sadness.
I'll help him, introduce him to happiness that is not in the form of people.
I promise.
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