journalentry
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Without you;
I cannot sleep. I cannot be happy. I cannot do anything. I cannot even bear myself.
I still find myself chasing the impossible.
So desperately trying,
only knowing nothing but failure.
nothing but pain.
I only want the things I can't have.
My problem is that I rely way too much on other people for happiness,
and no one is ever there.
I put other people before myself,
because I know I'm not worth it.
And I hate myself because of it.
If I were a poet,
I'd probably write about love.
I'd probably write about first isses,
and dates;
sitting together at the park eating KFC
and laughing at the world.
