Music: -
It's been a rough weekend for me.
If you were to ask me personally, I really don't know what's going on but I'm trying to make the best out of it. I try to wear myself out with work and hang out with as many friends as possible. Thinking about it still stings but I wake up everyday coating on more plaster and watching my heart get harder.
I'm fine. I'll be fine.
I wonder if any of you really understand what I say most of the time. I guess I know the answer to that. I'm sorry. I'm not sorry that you don't understand rather, I'm sorry that I write not primarily for the sake of you, but for me. I write. It's the only thing I know how to do, sometimes. And today, I just need to write.
You know how lovers always refer to their partner as the "missing piece". Their "missing piece" in life. Well, I found my missing piece. The one that made the entire picture complete. But most of the time, people paint a pretty picture. A picture filled with warm colors and bright shadings. Mine is the a contrast.
I placed the last piece in last weekend and I looked at my finished product. I saw streaks of scarlet dirtily smeared with grays, browns against black canvas. I guess I was hoping for something beautiful when everyone around me could already see what it was turning out to be. Depressingly messy.
You were my missing piece to an ugly picture. You used my vulnerability to your advantage. My naivety to your liking. My innocence to your pleasure. And you simply, easily, buckle your shoes and walk away while I'm left worrying about all the consequences to my actions.
Regret. Regrets. That's all I'm left with. A big spoonful of regret. Tasting bitter like poison coursing through my entire system.
I quit trying to find answers. I give up on the truth. I'll live with your silence.
You are dead to me.
