Eternal

If I had a choice, I'd glisten brighter than the stars in the sky. You would notice me and I would not fall apart. I guess my theories have always been true, no one can ever truly love me. My wonder leaves me behind and I just become the broken vessel of what once was. I'd die to shaken your world one last time. Rip apart the wonders of time and collapse into your arms again. We're nothing but images painted on the wall, omens for the end of the world. You were my world.

There's nothing in this moment that can numb me and tear me apart. We're living in the cycle of the misery that is called life. Losing our memory seems like the only solution, and Montauk awaits only for those that believe in second chances. My words are twisted and my mind is lost. My fingers are blistered and my brain is gone. Do you believe that time is better left alone? The only moment we're ever in love is when we go back in time. I don't think that makes any sense at all.

Is true love any real? I sit and wonder, and think if you're thinking about that too. Maybe it's only that the time was wrong. I'd understand that we're far too young, especially you, but I believed that there was no time for love. It just came, saw, and conquered. We were all doomed to fall, but now it just doesn't seem as clear as it once was. True love exists only in dreams.

The nicotine basted around my lungs, trying to find any way to damage me more. Why do I do this to myself? It seems like the only way I ever think is "Go big or go home." If i'm going to hurt, I'm going to truly hurt, and I want to be scarred. I don't ever want to forget. These scars are my tattoos, the common memory that haunts me every day and reminds me. My wrists will depict the moment of weakness that came, but the strength that it suggests. If they are here, then I must be too. I want to hurt. I want to bleed. I want to damage myself to the point that I will react. For some reason, my boiling point never comes.

You are all I write about, and I can't stand to spend another single second thinking about you. This is decomposing me and laying my guts out for all the vultures. I'm twisting and turning, and my mind feels bleak. Am I really this alone and tired? I have always been a nocturnal creature, but my lack of sleep is finally getting the best of me. Do you believe that we're all to blame? I fell apart to the same game.

This is the effect of the cause. This is what I receive for not knowing better and for falling apart. I will never let anyone in again. Everyone just gets bored. I'm great at first, but then they feel bored and trapped, and notice my every flaw. I don't know why I ever let anything begin when I know better.