When the spring arrives, and then the summer sets in, and winter comes again, I still won’t be seeing you. I am trying my hardest to understand how one gains a will to live. I’m barely alive, but I am alive. I’ve been doing it again, wearing a mask, forcing a smile, becoming something feign. My regard for life, happiness, and self-worth other than my own is so much that it has become hard for others to bear. I find myself getting upset with other people so often for dictating how another should live. I have become a dangerous person to confide in, it seems; When someone comes and says “I don’t feel like doing ‘this and that,” I respond with an honest, “Then don’t.”

I can not think of anything without being reminded of you. The way you slip into my thoughts is both a comfort and a curse, but it is one I am fine with never being dispelled of. I’m never going to break that promise.

I am constantly reminded of why I only trusted you, the moment I place my trust in someone they instantly decided that it is their place to dictate my existence, how I should be dealing with things, the things I should think about, the way I should act, the music I should be listening to, the air I breath, and what I do with my body.

I listened to that song you sent me nearly a month ago, the one by Vanna, that I had no intention of listening to then. The one that I simply said “lol stop being scene” and closed the tab. I listened to it, and with everything else I come to understand that I should have, I could have, been a little less selfish. I could have understood what you were trying to say.