noneforal
None For Al
You miss 100% of the shots you don't drink.
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why can’t I just be hit by a car so I don’t have to be the one killing myself?
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Learning how to tie a noose. Everything seems so meaningless, when you find out you're no more than a burden.
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Yes, I know you don't even mind me but... could you make it a bit less noticeable perhaps? Not your problem, I know it, just try to do it, or not at all, not that half tenderness that you show ever once in a little while.
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I don't usually get sick, but when I do... I do it alone, away from family for the first time, and seeking desesperately for attention and cuddles that no one around me can actually give to me.
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“No hay besos en la frente para mi, ni mensajes de buenos días. No hay un “te extraño” ni un “quiero verte”. No hay besos impacientes ni abrazos de consuelo. Para mi no hay nada.”
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Sigo igual
Esa maldita frase de: "no te preocupes, ya llegará alguien especial para ti, solo espera un poco más", que las personas que no están acostumbradas a estar solas porque es más el tiempo que han estado en relaciones que el tiempo que han pasado sin una relación; siempre me ha parecido de mal gusto.
Y siempre había tenido amigos igual de solitarios que compartían mi disgusto ante esa ingenua frase y, al menos nos teníamos a nosotros mismos para no sentirnos tan mal.
Todos esos amigos con los que alguna vez me identificaba ya tienen a su alguien especial y pues yo... yo sigo igual.
Y eso provoca una inmesa sensación de soledad y de que no valgo la pena... para nadie. Porque ellos van para adelante, y yo sigo igual.
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'Quit whining' I always say to myself. 'You literally don't have any big problem that you should be worried about, yet you pity yourself like if you were suffering the most atrocious of the disgraces.'
Whenever this comes into my mind, I feel an immense ache in my soul. Part of me knows it's true. Nevertheless, my other half remains stubborn and yearns for attention and healing.
Of course I do nothing about it. Why would I? They're people who's actually in great grief and sorrow; family, coworkers, friends whose troubles require assistance.
When I think of that, I can't help but coming in their aid. I hide away all signs of sadness and anxiety, so I can show them I'm there for them and, at the end of the day, I like to believe I did something good for the ones I'm fond of.
But after that, when they say 'thanks' and return to their lives. I end up the same, or maybe a little more bruised. The pain remains the same, and the lonesome grew bigger.
I always try hard to be there for the ones a care. But then again, who's there for me at the end? I can't complain though. They owe me nothing, they're broken too. How could I ever do something so selfish like demanding support when I perfectly know they're the ones who need it the most?
I'll help whenever I can, I'll be there whenever they need it. But deep inside I, too, need help, every once in a little while.
How come that
Empty hearts and
Lovers always
Plunge by their own?
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Wingman
Once again I'm the wingman, the one who's there to make his friend look better. Who's ugly enough to make the girl get into the other guy, more fashionable, more fuckable.
Once again I'm suppose to stay in the shadow ignoring all of his messages, keeping his phone in his pocket to make sure she's paying attention the right guy.
Today I lost two important talks and one confident friend just to give someone the chance of gettin' laid, just to be the right wingman.
I like to think that I was a good friend... but what's the reward? What's the point of it all?
Once again, I'm the wingman, I hope you got what you wanted, 'cause I've never got what I desired.
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