maybe it’s not about what i’m trying to find and it’s not about where i’m searching i might just be a square peg trying to fit myself into a round hole
i’m not made for this world the rotting brain in my head whispers secrets to me daily about how i’d be better off dead and i don’t even hang on because i want to i do it because i am too afraid that if i let go i’ll be remembered for all the things people think i am when in reality, no one should cry when i’m gone
the days keep getting harder i try to laugh because it’s the medicine i have the easiest access to but the fake smiles i paste to my face can’t replace everything i’ve lost and all that i’ve thrown away
my potential fades more and more each day and i keep getting wasted so the feelings all fade until the sun rises again and the past is replaced with more of the same