Someone asked me the other day if my glass was half empty or half full. I was going to say it's empty, but that's not completely true. My life isn't void and I have my happy moments; but they usually just seem to disappear, or get worse. So, my glass is cracked. Yes, cracked. It gets filled up with happiness and hope, but it always ends up escaping my grasp. It always ends up empt-ing out. It will never be full because it's always leaking. And one day, it will get thrown away, because no one wants a broken glass.
I wanna believe that you're this perfect guy and everything you seem to be is true. But when I look at you, really look at you, I can tell that I'm just barely scratching the surface. You're that book, with the pretty cover, the one that I just can't wait to to get into. But you should never judge a book by it's cover, because now that I've read far enough into you that I just can't put you down, there will be a twist... and everything will change... and by the last page... I'll be heartbroken
You don't need to know any of this. But the things I don't reveal are the things I hold closest and fear losing the most. I work overtime keeping them veiled and camouflaged. You don't need to know that I walk around all day fearing the things that make me happy, and that I have been doing that for my entire life.
In time, the pain it took to stay, became greater than the pain it took to go.
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