First rays of light slither through the flimsy shades
just as I walk through our past conversations with closed eyes.
Physically my eyes are closed, but it’s a teenage movie,
with the drama and the fights that happened between us.
Different endings of what could’ve been play out,
both of us as the authors, imagining too many endings.
No matter how many different scenarios, the finale is
the same, it doesn’t change, we are both still crying.
The echo of your last message still acts as an alarm clock,
reminding me of my so-called mistakes and hurtful actions.
You whisper into my ear about how I was the shittiest part
of your life, and how I wasn't loyal or serious enough for us.
Meanwhile, it was me that was constantly working for us,
trying to better myself while helping you and our friends.
Instead of helping me or supporting my choices, you rolled your eyes
at everything I did. Telling me that it wasn’t good enough.
You told me that it was me who gave up our future together,
but you weren't serious enough to even talk about upcoming events.
Forget trying to plan anything too far ahead with you,
telling me that it was better to just be spontaneous and in the moment.
While I wanted to go places and further my chances for opportunity,
you couldn't even put down the controller and find a part-time job.
Maybe I was the shittiest or the worst part of your life,
it’s ironic though, because I was the one who brought truth
to your life as you told me how much of a liar I am.
I guess the truth does come out in unexpected ways,
do you still think of the truth as the solvent to all our problems?
Astrology in the Age of Doubt
You Should Read Paris Hilton's Memoir, Too
How Can Schools Do Better?
