You were no good for me. I was probably no good for you. Exhaustion chases me snapping endlessly at my heels as I move wearily onward. You weren’t here for my birthday. I wasn’t there for yours. The wish was made without witness in silence… I want it all to turn out well but failing to believe I just beg wordlessly for an end. Suicidal, maniacal and full on lost. I’m such a mess. I’m so alone. And none of it matters a bit. Not ambition not death of purpose not the fact that I only had for a moment something I thought I wanted for a lifetime.