"Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be okay."
I heard my phone ringing from outside the bathroom.
"It's gonna be a good, good life, that's what my therapist say."
Sitting on the floor as I cough up flower petals.
"Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be just fine."
Pink petals scattered all over my bathroom floor.
"It's gonna be a good, good life."
This needs to stop! It's just too much!
"I'm a mess, I'm a loser, I'm a hater, I'm a user."
He's already mine, his surname, his everything. All of those can be proven by a bunch of papers, but his heart is an exception.
"I'm a mess for your love, it ain't you (new)."
It's time I accept mom's offer. I should undergo surgery. I'm so tired. Puking flowers everyday, it ain't nice. I don't want to succumb to this. I don't want to die just because of flowers filling up my lungs due to unrequited love.
I'm suffering too much.
The fact that he doesn't love me is hell.
It should be fine but with this disease, it's much much worse.
