There is no “you”. It’s just me
She drinks wine like it's water
Then wonders why she's sad
Wonders about what's missing
And why she's going mad
She takes her pills each morning
And knows that it's not right
Knowing what she's missing
Yet won't put up the fight
Until one morning
She realized it was time
It may be dark
It may be nothing
But nothing is better than this
Then I came to this conclusion.
I don't know what to do anymore. Everyday is just passing by like the plague. I can't feel anything until I'm drinking, and the happiness from that passes far too soon. I want nothing. It's making less sense everyday. Every goddamn day.