More than anything, I wish I could be the sort of person who could look at themselves in the mirror and think, “yeah, I deserve to live.”
It’s weird, being surrounded by people you love and respect and realizing that, unfortunately, the only means you have of viewing these people is through the sick, tired eyes you call your own. Yeah, sure, you bought the ticket to be here. Too bad you can’t stay.
Wishing everyone well, knowing that you’d miss them more than anything, knowing that everything would be better if you just weren’t there anymore.
I want the girl who asks all the questions to finally find all of her answers. To find a husband and children. The family she’s been looking for the whole time.
I want the man who gave it all out of some weird, dutiful obligation to realize that he is worth more than some stupid paycheck.
I want the girl with the needle to realize that she can destroy herself as much as she likes and that we’ll love her regardless.
I want the woman with the 5-7-5 to know that she is as beautiful as they come.
I want the kid with the missing teeth to know that he has a brighter life with broader horizons ahead of him, if he’d only look for it.
I want the man with the bottle to realize that none of this was his fault and that he did the best he could.
I want the woman who loved the man with the bottle to know the same.
I want a lot of things. I want a tight rope. I want a sharp, wrenching drop. I want the stars and the pain and the darkness that follows.