I mean, at the end of the day, what the hell does it matter who I end up with if it can't be you?
At the end of the day it's about how much you can bear, how much you can endure. Being together, we harm nobody; being apart, we extinguish ourselves.
How can something so wrong feel so right?
As the light begins to intensify, so does my misery, and I wonder how it is possible to hurt so much when nothing is wrong.
I might appear confident and chatty, but I spend most of my time laughing at jokes I don't find funny, saying things I don't really mean - because at the end of the day that's what we're all trying to do: fit in, one way or another, desperately trying to pretend we're all the same.
At what point do you give up - decide enough is enough? There is only one answer really. Never.
But whichever form it took it brought with it, in those moments of bitter anguish, such a desperate surge of hope that it was almost untouchable, and flitted away like a golden butterfly into the bright blue sky - beautiful, unreachable and completely transistent.
