Pose.
You’re in a shot.
Have you ever thought of anyone besides yourself?
Really?
You don’t strike me as the type that cares much for others.
Not one for company.
Not one for love.
How can I trust you?
You want to live your life like there’s nothing left for you.
When, in reality, you’re life is just beginning.
I can’t live with you.
You make me sick.
You make me weak.
You make everything awkward.
I can’t… no, I won’t stand for this anymore.
But I have to because you are me.
I am you.
You are me.

—

It’s a poetic confession of sorts. I’m in a bad place right now, and I’m venting. If I’m bugging you, sorry. Ignore me for a bit.