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let's talk about death, shall we?
ok.
the only thing about death i am worrying about, is will people miss me?
will they talk about me after i'm gone?
or...will they not notice?
will they even say my name?
do they say it anyway?
or am i as invisible as i think i am??
i don't know.
or do i?
am i pushing myself out of everyone's life?
is it me?
or is it you?
i don't understand.
i sit in my room all day every day,
my parents wonder what's wrong with me.
i say "tired" or so.
but they know.
i know they know.
because they don't say anything.
my mom caught me once.
but i was dumb enough to do it in the kitchen.
and i never wear long sleeves.
only when i do the certain thing.
but i've stopped.
i promised him i wouldn't.
i promised, broke it once, and i've kept it ever since.
the end.
but the end is just another beginning isnt it?
i've done it again.