Sometimes at night, I wonder if there are people that really love me. And I don't just mean me, I mean the real me. The me that I only I know. The me with a mind so dark not even a room without any light would be enough to describe it. Not even an empty abyss with nowhere in sight. Not even nothing. Nowhere. Me.
The me that's filled with so many unsettling thoughts that if it were to be put into a picture film no one would bare to watch it. A horror that not even the scariest of movies could describe.
I'm talking about the me of inside my mind.
If you knew what I really felt whenever you say something to me, good or bad.
Sometimes I wonder if you could ever love the real me.
