Trigger warning: I'm sad
A convo with my best friend:
Me: bold
Her: bold italic
"People must be sick of listening to me."
"Come on, you know that's not true."
"Well it has to be, at least a little bit. I mean, it's just all the same shit everytime."
"You always say to me that you'd much rather I spoke to you than kept it inside."
"That's because it's true."
"Well, everyone else feels like that for you."
I smell fucking lies.
I'm sick of being an add on, sick of being the extra one only a couple people like.
I'm not happy.
I'm not happy.
I'm not happy.
'Sure I live in the moment, but I'm never happy here. I'm surrounded by greener looking time.'
I'm not enough for anybody to stay alive.
I'm not enough for them to want to.
Maybe I should just stop treading water, and let myself sink into the black pit I'm in now.
That way nobody gets hurt.
If they think it's their fault, I won't tell them what they'll think is their fault.
I'll be the strong one.
Or I'll try to be.
