The Tragic Truth of You and Me
I feel like I've always been this bus stop full of people at rush hour that eventually grows desolate once midnight rolls in with only sidewalk lights to watch my back. It's always been this way; I've always been like this.
In case you're wondering, no, it's not the pills I drink before I sleep. It's not the demons living inside my head. It's really just me and perhaps this is an epic where I am the heroine, and this is my tragic flaw.
The thing is I am but rotten meat; mostly disliked, partly chomped by garbage flies. I am a complete mess, a disoriented ant, and a tree house maiden. I really am an old, weary carousel—not even an antique—I keep on turning, my head is spinning. I feel like dying but I also have to keep on breathing.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I've always been a little less than a what if, almost there but I gave up halfway, the unused journals, and wasted concert tickets. I should've known better than to say goodbye. I've never been good enough and you've always been more than enough. You like her, I like you but we are never bound for each other and it occurred to me, that despite how many times I hope and wish, we will never happen.
I should've known better than to say goodbye.
Maybe we aren't worth the could-have-been, and I think that's alright. The mere idea of your forever and my never was great. Perhaps this really is the beginning of our never after although truth be told, I knew, ever since we met. I knew, I always knew that we'll forever be a "could have been" but never a "will."