You know what?


I left it all out.

I didn’t write anything I thought. Anything I felt.

Believe me. God fucking damn it, believe me.

There are some moments when I lay there and I fucking scream inside.

When I am at my wits end,

Nothing left,

I reach over, grab that stuffed sack and hold on,


It’s ok.

I remember every moment it was you instead,

Then I re-create all the moments that left me holding that instead.

I’m fine.

Even when, sometimes, I’m not fine at all.

And despite myself,

I hope you’re fucking fine.

Because when this passes I will be fine as well,

But in the meantime,

Just as I burn sometimes,

I wish you the very same hell.

I’m waiting for it to be over soon,

I’m waiting for it to be over soon,

I’m waiting.

That wrecking ball will come for you one day,



But I’m ok,

I’m ok.