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I'm finding that I'm following in footsteps I've always warned myself against. And trust me, I never wanted to feel okay knowing where they led. It kills me to think that I have to face my inconsistencies, and realize that there's a big difference between who I am and who I want to be. These city lights have never looked so beautiful, and so dull at the same time. I know I only want what I can't have because I'm too afraid of taking what I can. But I'll hold on to every ounce of uncertainty, because that's what's keeping me alive.

I said I'm sorry. I've had better days, and it's nothing worth trying to explain. I'll keep my mouth shut, I'll keep my eyes fixed on the ground, and let silence fill the distance between us.

I've been walking across this tightrope, and now I'm hanging by a thread, giving my word I won't let go. But I know these words don't mean a thing when my actions scream so loud that I can't think straight. These words don't mean a thing when I don't believe a single one I say.

I will let you down.

What's it like talking to a wall? Are you in good company watching it chip away silently? And does it hurt you like it hurts me to watch the colors run down the sides, exposing everything that the paint tried so hard to hide?

We're stagnant. We're just creatures of habit. I dig my nails into what I know and cover my whole life in scratches. And you swore that you'd stay grounded, but you're getting taken by the wind. You said, "you know when I'm alone, I can feel the cracks in my skin." So keep your grip around my fingers.

I was built to break. I was made to feel afraid for the sake of feeling something. I'll bleed my heart out and paint the walls. I'll be a portrait of what's been lost for the sake of being something.

And now I'll stumble through each scene. Watch everything around me learn to change while the constant stays the same. I stay the same. My legs are giving out, and these walls are caving in. I could spend a lifetime by your side, but I just can't piece them back again.

I'm falling apart at the seams. I'm a toy that got tucked away, now forget about me. I'm falling apart at the seams, just an torn up rag-doll, there's nothing left inside of me.

These are the eyes that grew too tired to hold open through what they've come to know as a constant burning glow. So when you said, "it never fades," I guess that you were right, but they're adjusting to the light now and oh, so am I.

I've never felt so afraid to breathe in, because I know the air won't be the same. But I'm doing it anyways, because I won't pretend to spend a lifetime holding my breath.