I speak often saying nothing. Chit-chat to end the silence. Shallow words because others won't delve deep. Forgotten feelings and lost causes I call home. No wonder I dream to roam. I dream of brighter times, happier moments when love was felt. When purpose was known and smiles shown.

Now in what seems to be a never-ending twilight. I know well you can never have what once was and building anew is for the lucky few. I'd say loneliness was killing me, but I died long ago. I simply refused to lie down. I use to cope with the feeling of pride because I would survive. Yet never did the suffering end. Never was there a friendship that didn't end. I would only thrive on my misery.

And now I'm exhausted and weakened, sickened to the point of emptiness. I feel nothing but regret at the energy given so freely. Self-pity and self-hate are all the companions that remain. For in reaching to be what I thought I should be. I became what I never was

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