I talked about dreams.
About hope.
And wishes.
You were there.
Aiding me with the support that I need.
It's good. It really was and still is. While it lasts.
But when I talked about my life getting harder and harder every fucking time.
You never pay attention.
You thought it was a one time thing.
A hormones kicking in.
You thought I was being dramatic.
Fucking drama queen.
But your thoughts were wrong.
How right could it be when after all this while, the feeling never gone. It holds me, embrace me into a rather suffocating hug.
I was nothing and everything at the same time.
A shell of a nice person I ought to be.
