Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Sorry?

.
I am impossible to talk to. I care about nothing and no one. I always do as I please. You, your pleas and your tears, your anger, your authority and your fears. They mean nothing to me; and for all you have to say, your words may as well be static that I can barely hear above the music (that won't stop) playing in my head.

I am selfish and unfeeling. I am cold and made entirely of apathetic igneous stone. I will not cry for you, the world or God. And I will not cry for myself. Oh, I shall never be unkind and I will never make you cry. But I will not promise to be there to hold your hand as your world falls to pieces. And I will not be around to catch your falling tears.

...
It's only because my hands and head are already full. I have no safe place left to keep (the rest of) your sadness and your pain. If you're bitter and mad, and if it would make you feel better, go ahead, take it all out on me. It doesn't make an ounce of difference.

I'll do what I can to keep you safe - but only as long as you stay on that side of this dilapidated wall. Try and break through and I promise to hop back into the rabbit hole. And if I am supposed to apologize, I'm sorry.

I will only haunt the rarest of your thoughts. And though I will vanish as soon as you ask me to, I will leave you my shadow. I will be your one regret, but I shall not be found. Because I never want to be lost again.

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