I can never be happy as long as happy people tell me that they don’t want me to die, that I can’t allow myself to die, that I can’t allow myself to find my happiness.
So here I fade away.
I don’t want to talk to understanding people who don’t and can’t understand me, only people who would understand me: those who also don’t want to talk.
So here I remain silent.
I don’t want to face the day as I’m facing life and more life every day, knowing that each day is a day that I’m still here, still breathing, still dying from an unbroken heart.
So here I don’t rest.
Here lies someone who can’t lie down, who is kept from lying down by the passing ghosts of uncharred flesh left standing in the wake of the rippling fire.
So here I chillingly burn.