"Telling stories is telling lies"
B.S. Johnson
I think it's fair to say that I chose hopelessness, and gave up on your "honesty". When it gets to the point that you think about if there will be enough air left to breath in the room with all these people in it, over the fact that you're holding my hand, you can tell that something's wrong. I remember (was it really just days ago?) that you bawled when that guy who sang all of those sad songs died. Ironic, isn't it? In all seriousness though, let's be honest- nothing ever really changed, we were just blind to it before.
Your hands will still be empty when you stop clutching at all those stupid straws. You do nothing but complain, and cling to all of these bad memories. Nobody cares. I hate the way you'd whisper, "why, isn't this a joy to behold?" with that smug grin on your face, like you know something that nobody else was quite able to grasp.
It was a mistake. Just a mistake
Photograph by ~Dark-Eco-Dragon @ Deviantart.com
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