Another rainy day, another chance to wash away the filth sticking to my skin from weeks without caring about who I am becoming. It’s a fall in slow motion, a subtle slip that turns into a never ending slideshow of evenings spent worshipping the bottom of a bottle, any bottle I can find.
But it’s never enough to break me, to shake this shallow soul clear of my shivering skeleton. It clings to cold bones, finding purchase in the cracks, the hairline fractures I chiseled myself in an attempt to carve away a fraction of my sins. I’m weighed down by all of the mistakes I’ve made, and by all of the mistakes I know I will make. A lifetime of bad decisions has all but guaranteed I’ll never learn how to find forgiveness.
And that really, really sucks, because I know, I KNOW, that forgiveness isn’t supposed to be so complicated. Humans… we have a way of making stupid easy shit super fucking difficult for no real reason. But I guess it’s fine. The world’s still rotating, life keeps on going, so I don’t have to worry about a thing. Everyone I cared about will keep on going, smiling, laughing, crying… they’ll keep moving forward, regardless of my shitty decisions, so it doesn’t matter either way. I don’t have to force myself to keep moving forward, right? Is it okay if I just stop fighting with myself just long enough to find some real peace? Because that’s all I want, to find some peace.
Everybody I know will be just fine, so please… tell me it’s okay if I stop fighting… and promise me you’ll find a way to forgive me someday, because I’m tired… I’m so, so tired…
So promise me that you’ll forgive me for letting go first.
Just promise me that you’ll be okay after I’m gone.
That little light from your lampshade 