You were fake, I was great, nothing personal.

That feeling when you get hit in the stomach and you can't breathe... you can't think... you just feel pain. That's what this is. You're all the same. "I can post this because I know you won't read it." See? Same. Why do we question who we are. We're fake. We have fake nails, fake hair, fake tan, fake smile, fake eyebrows, fake eye colors, fake paints for our face as if our eyelids are color by numbers. So, I lied. You did too. You screamed at god but knew he wasn't there to hear you. So let's pretend and play our little games and say "bye" as if it really meas anything to anyone anymore. Just like "love." As if we even know how to define that word to an extra-terrestrial. Can we please just get over ourselves for just a fucking minute? Every impulse sitting in my heart that keeps beating too fast because of the pills I'm supposed to take is awaiting for some form of appreciation. My life is a thankless and unrecognized job. Whose isn't. When you erase me, did you remember to meet me again? I believe that movies and songs can save your life. Maybe I'm just classified as an adrenaline junkie. Maybe I rely on apologizes too much. Did I really think you could have been a different person? The tips of her tattoos looked like yours and I missed you. missed you so much. You ruined my life but were my best friend. Who can really blame anybody else for their own issues. I guess the ever long question of whether or not we'll be okay burnt into my brain so thick that I'll never quit asking it. But then again, maybe its burnt just as thick into yours, too.