Life works in a way that we can’t see at first glance. Why did this situation have to hurt? You’ve been damaged before, this is nothing new. You need to make mistakes. A whole fucking lot of them. You’ve been here before, I know you have. You treat someone wrong just to learn how to listen. When someone tells you that you’ve hurt them, damn it, you fucking did. I’ve seen my heart run dry, I’ve ran out of words to try and save us. They say that seeing is believing. I get it now. You don’t really know yourself, you don’t really love yourself– you just think you do. This is a poem for you, but it’s also very much for different versions of myself– or rather, this is being written from the many wasted years. When you’re a ghost town and in the middle of nowhere– any form of acceptance sounds beautiful. When you’re a shell of passion that you can’t recall, when you’re trying to create a better you– are you still the same fuck up if you ever get better? I still don’t know my own reflection. I still don’t understand myself. There is a dark veil slicing up my thoughts, some people call it depression. And fuck, it’s never sad. Nowadays, there’s always something missing. Like a love with no trust. Like going a whole day with just clouds. Like memories with blurry faces, I’m disconnected from reality sometimes. I say what I don’t mean and I’m hurting with no feelings. Life is a stranger we pass by everyday. Have we met before? Do you really love me? What do you like about me? Wait, before you speak. Maybe we’re the same. They say lovers eventually mirror one another. You don’t ask for much. Not for poetry. Not for art. Not for anything really… not even for love itself. You know… you only ask for one thing. Honesty. So when I read a text and don’t answer it like I used to, it doesn’t mean that I like you a little bit less than I did yesterday. So when I’m quiet and just stare into the phone, it doesn’t mean that you’re not interesting. So when you say that you love me back and I question what it is exactly that you love about me… it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you too… it just means we’ve got more time to figure us out.
But, it's like the same story over and over with Hook. It's like they can't come up with anything else.