The Negative Week of Eleven.

Today, I am harsh.

I’ve spoken words I never said before and I dealt poison I never knew I had.

And to someone that means a lot to me. Well, used to, maybe.

‘You spit on our memories.’

I am ashamed of myself. For being unable to control my ownself, unable to hold myself back. Maybe I am dreaming, but I feel your pain.

I just wished that things weren’t like this.

Why did things started out so rosy ended up like this?

This is an absolute mess, and all the more I hated myself for it.

But I rather do things that made you hate me, because it will make things easier for you.

But for me, I know that more agony is in store for me. This deepseated agonizing searing pain within.

And I can’t get it out by myself. I’m a lost little kid, knowing not where to go or to do.

I want to apologise to you a thousand times then a thousand more, if it can do anything to let the ruins come to life.

Oh, where do we begin, the rubble or our sins?

You were my voice of reason, the person who kept me in check and held me from the precipice. Now, I don’t know. Maybe you can have the front seat view as I fall.

So watch me fall. I might fly.

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