Say this is jealousy that I’m feeling, well then I’m fine with that. You have a certain characteristic that gives you the means to not feel a fucking thing for anyone that isn’t you. Now tell me you’re not fucking selfish. For every kind hearted word that I spoke to you, I wish I could take back every syllable you ripped from my mouth as I screamed for you to understand what it feels like to not be as important to someone as they are to you. Well I’ve been on both ends and my lesson was learned. So I tell the stories of collapsed lungs, so maybe the fortunate could get a fighting chance to just cut and fucking run.

Fuck saying the right things. I’m sick of being your crutch. I will never pick you up again. Don’t show me that face, you know the one that I’m talking about. You will never get under my skin again. Not another word. Not sorry for shit.
I’m leaving you breathless, broken, alive