Nothing will ever fill the hole. I know that.
And all I am doing is pretending that I have that thing.
Whatever that thing is.
Is it hope?
Is it talent?
Is it other people?
Nothing I ever do will give me the people that I should have had
And being mad at them won’t help
And not letting go of the shit that they did isn’t working
and the longer I think about it the more it hurts
and when I stop thinking about it, everything else hurts
and when I get to know people they can’t love me
and that sentiment is reciprocal
and so far nothing will ever fill the hole. I know that.
I’m faking whatever it is that makes everybody else okay right now
so if I’m high let me be because I don’t just feel sad then
so if I’m drunk let me be because passing out passes the time
and maybe when some one or something can tell me
matter of factually with charts and references and graphs
and clarity and precision
what the fuck it is that I’m doing here
I’m going to try really hard to feel
like I’m not empty anymore…