They say I’m stronger than this, but I’m not.
They say it’s just a season, but it’s not.
They say I’ll be okay, but I won’t be.
They say it’ll all be worth it, but I don’t believe it.
They say there’s still good amongst the bad, but I can’t see
it.
They say God has a greater plan in this, but I don’t buy it.
They say they care about me, but there actions say otherwise.
They say they’ll never leave, but they do.
Because I’ve lived it enough times to be naïve enough to
believe those lies, and yet they still don’t understand that I have nothing
left in me. And I’m starting to think
that maybe I’m addicted to the pain. Maybe it’s become so engrained into who I
am that I’m just lost without it. So it’s possible that instead of the hurt
always finding me, that I’m the one who creates it. Unconsciously, maybe I
foster just the right conditions that serve as a breeding ground for sadness.
So maybe now I can just accept that I’m not made for happiness and learn to
survive in the life I’ve been given.
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