I love somebody and I can't get over them. Whoop-ee-doo. I am a miserable but alive. I should be happy, shouldn't I? This poem is very horrible, my rhyming is awful, my poems are a disgrace, and they're written by me so, you will be disappointed if you expect something good.
I am miserable at the moment. My mind and heart and I guess my soul are tormented. Good, right? I deserve it.
I read this quote but it didn't say who it was from: "You punish yourself for being yourself."
That, itself, is true. Being me has ruined many great things. And, yeah.
Take care y'all.