i'm not sure if this is what you and i thought our lives would become.

no backbone.
no self respect.
no direction.
no hope.
no life.
no more.

all day my heart's been sinking and my ribs have been sore. i might scream into my pillow because i can't scream outloud. what makes you so fucking fragile, so untouchable? when i tear my skin off and rip my hair out maybe then it will be apparent how exhausted i am. maybe when i tell you he's actually dead and gone, you'll remember the good life and what has happened. you'll remember that expression, "you don't know what you've got til it's gone." or maybe you'll realize that life is precious and you shouldn't have been wasting all this time. i'd probably sink into bed for weeks and forget about everything all together. i'd want you to crawl in next to me, and tell me all your new found realizations, but it probably won't happen and he'll probably live forever. (counting my lucky stars). if i could sleep til my body said "okay that's enough!" maybe i'd finally feel better. a stressed induced coma might fall upon me any minute anyway.

always the burden, never the freebird.