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?