Album 1: "The Emotional Monster"

17. "A Bitter End"

Number 93 in my journal

Sometimes you might know what happens tomorrow.
But the last day already transpired.
I didn't get my chances.
Tell me why - answer my questions - honestly.

Answer my texts, notice me.
Make eye contact at least.
Why were we here in the first place?
In the heavy rain, under my umbrella.
Well, you can't answer that.

It was too good to be true.
Now everything finalizes this.
No more silence, I need the truth.
Please, no more switching subjects from you.
I know you slowly hate me, probably.

I hide you from my generation, my grade of kids.
For now, they won't know the older generation.

Our time will be up,
And we must straighten this all out.
Then it'll be too late to go back.
Apologize, you're not staying consistent.
Everything is fading.
Getting further from resolution.
As the school year swiftly closes,
As only halfway over.

I don't want to stay on these terms.
This isn't right.
After two months,
It's about time to know who you're affiliated with.
What you think of me, who you really are.

I'm so lost. I need my answers.
Why did you stop talking?
Can't time go any slower?
No... we had a chance rather often.
For a good few weeks.
I shouldn't have held it off in November.
It's too late. The year will end too soon.
Time has separated our friendship.
I have to accept this fate.

Of hoping we cross paths again,
It's ending. December is done.
End of the 2019 school year.
Truth for 2020.
It won't happen, in such little time.
Then summer, knowing our first year,
As friends end.

I'll be a sophomore, you'll be a junior.
Oh, you're growing up so fast.
I can already imagine our friendship next year.
Am I thinking too far ahead?
Will you change communities because of me?

I tried to help.
I tried to win your heart.
I must face the tune.
Moving on, hopelessly.

In the shadows of the unexpected.
And built my weak tower, home, heart.
Easily breakable, base of hate.

While you have more than enough room.
Tall, large enough for your friends.
No room for me.
While I'm behind you in a cardboard box.

It's too late for you.
You're not it.
Another lesson. Too good to be true.
Since I won't see you.
Until maybe 2-3 weeks from now.

As I imagine, we face each other,
On the last day, and it just all fades away.
2019 days fade and reappear in 2020.
As the memories, as you fade,
Until next year my friend.

Oh, I can already imagine.
The stress, upsetting, depressing, anxious events,
That is awaiting us next year.
It's too late for everyone I know.

It all concludes.
A bitter end, once again.
I wish it could've been bittersweet,
For a sense of hope.

12.22.19. . 5.2.20

Will you change communities because of me? - in my high school, every kid is put in different communities. There are three. Me and him are in the same one. You can only change in grade eleven. Every community has its own time school starts and ends, and a different format of school work, different types of work from other communities.