Would you still be here, at the end of everything?
Sometimes, I think I'm a fool.A fool that doesn't know when to stop doing things that might irritate(of course, that could be attributed to my paranoia) others.Perhaps I look at it differently from you, perhaps I feel that being here is still such a good idea and any barbs that I step on, might be a good way to keep me awake and not fall asleep into a slow submission to some half-truth that might be hanging around.What can I do for a person that makes me happy , the one who is my muse ,the Prozac for my depression?You might make me happy, you too, yes you, might also give me joy, but where are you, the one I search the clouds for everyday, waiting for the sunlight to break through?
No torch or lantern can light my way like your natural light.I don't know if you'll ever understand this.I don't even know whether you still read this page now and then.Screw the world if I appear weak and not like a man should be, for I place honesty and silent presence above bravado and manliness.I do not believe in stereotypes, I am who I am.Hate me, love me or look at me with a neutral smile, I'm fine.
I could be one of the weak ones, lagging behind the race, almost out of it, but somehow I always stay within sight.Might it be that I was made like this to be the observer, never having the chance to fully take part in my wishes?Sigh.I feel so absofuckinglutely despondent.I just can't afford to see you drift away.No.
In the end,all I think of now and then is whether you'll still be here at the end of everything.I think I will be.Yes, I will be.Problem is, will you be there?