we're taught to envy what isn't ours, what can't be ours. we're taught to wander 'what if?'. we're taught to hate others because we can't be like them. this is all we're trained to see: perfection in everybody else but ourselves.
is this in my mind or yours?
i don't know why you get to do this to me.
again and again and again and again.
the pain, raw and fresh every time;
did you mean any of it?
i believe(d) every word of it,
yet somehow seeing it still gives us (me) that cold heartbeat of knowing it couldn't be.
so maybe i'm not over it.
maybe this is all it will ever be, empty words on a page that will never be read through the right eyes anyway.
i mean, what's a dream if it can actually come true, right?
maybe we'll never end up where we're meant to be.
maybe there isn't a 'meant to be', but only paths we go along only to realise we didn't even pick them in the first place. no, we're led by jealousy and greed and selfishness and self-preservation and suffocating ambition and apathy. they're little monsters that take our little hands and guide our little feet along until it's too late to click our little heels and wish for home.
and then,
we are broken by hurt.
and that's it,
that's all,
hurt.
fuck it.
this is so last year.
i might see you whenever we're (i'm) finally moving on.