It wasn't as if I always had a penchant for words. It isn't as if I was born with such a treasured gift. But this skill came from somewhere, and not within from me.
I miss you, but you don't miss me. I want you back, but you don't want me. I think of you, but you don't think of me. At least, that's what I think, and last time, I thought so wrong. So tell me I'm wrong.
Fierce, irrational desire to stand by you, as we are alone together. You have never known true loneliness. I have never seen real friendship. What a broken pair we are, huh?
Want it so bad, but can't get it. Running away, but forced to stay. Killed over and over and over again, for nothing but trying to follow my desires. Don't you dare help me.
I have never believed myself to be worthy to be responsible for a life. If it should come to pass, however, what is it that I should do? Step away or plow forward? Hug her close or push her away? Be as I am or be what my parents wanted?
People call me unambitious. They think I am so carefree. They ask me about my dreams and I tell them I have none, for they have laughed and jeered when I said otherwise. They act disappointed, saying "Such a wasted young soul," and yet they tell me I can never make it. So, I will remain silent until they will listen to my voice.