Fun fact; The Achy Breakys are pretty trash.

You ever feel like you're being stabbed 47 times in the chest?

You ever feel like no matter how hard you cry and scream, you'll still never have cried and screamed enough?

You ever miss a smell or a taste or a sound so much that for three days that's all you want... and yet you still can't have it?

You ever just lay awake at night, because all you can do is think?

You ever loose interest in all the things that you used to love?

You ever get pushed so far down under ground that you feel like you're suffocating?

You ever try to mask how your feeling for the sake of others?

You ever stop eating because what's the point if you can't enjoy the taste? You lost that ability a while ago.

You ever wonder if maybe it's be better if you didn't bother anybody anymore?

You ever consider running away and never coming back?

Ha...

Well we can all dream, right? Or maybe it was a nightmare. I don't know. I don't care.

I want so badly to know... that everything is okay. I want so badly to know that I'm not trash. I want so badly to know if I did the right thing or if I'm just making it worse.

But I can't take the emotions that come with knowing.

Angry. Sad. Betrayed. Stupid. Flabbergasted. Hurt. Like I was played for a fool. Idiotic. Abandoned...

Like I was never even wanted.

And who knows maybe I wasn't.

I sure as heck don't know.

All I wanted was to be a part of it. All I wanted was to ease pain. All I wanted was to stop with the secrets. And the hiding. And the deceit.

But instead I ran my mouth. And instead I paid the price.

Moral of the story: Just be honest. With yourself. With everyone you care about. And especially... With those who care about you.