Sometimes I think I might just live. It’s all gotten too much, I have had enough, I’m just going to do it.
I lay in bed during the day and think about it. I lie awake at night. I think about how it might be, to live. Things would be better. No one would have to worry about me.
Sometimes I get so close I’m scared and I think about calling for help. But I can’t go through with it, and I do what I’m prone to doing. I think just give up and I accept that I’m a lost cause, and I’ll be dead forever.
The person that broke your heart could be someone you don’t talk to anymore. You don’t even think of them. But they did it, they took it and destroyed it. And it’s gone and you’re cold. And every day you blame them in the back of your mind.