Fix me.
It’s the same scene; new year.
I keep making the same mistakes over and over again, hoping I can get close enough to you that I can get what I need, but it’s never enough.
I’ve tried cutting you out of my life and keeping you close by, and I’m honestly not sure what hurts more because they both feel exactly the same. If I never saw you again, I think I’d die, but perhaps I’d live.
I wanted to give you everything. I wanted to fix you when you were broken. I wanted to support you when you were successful. …It’s yours.
If you were hit by a bus tomorrow, and were so grossly disfigured no one could bear to look at you, and you could only communicate through a keypad and you needed your bedpan changed every six minutes, I would never leave your side.
I don’t expect to have you or anyone pledge the same thing in return — who can — but what I can’t wrap my head around is why someone would push that much love away. Shove it away. Dismiss it away.
I have nothing left. I have absolutely nothing left, because all you do is take and tear and joke and tease.
You clearly have no idea what it’s like to love you, because it’s totally impossible. And until there’s a drug strong enough or a will strong enough, my wasted heart will always love you because it’s all I fucking know.
