.april. I know that I was never really special. It's happened so many times before. I'd rather resent your pretend sentiment than drown myself in your pitiful whispers of guilt and of sympathy. I had to believe I was something. I had to make myself think that I stood out among the pale weeping faces that will always ache for what you give, (and give you do.) I felt I was that princess, that my words were crafted and born not just of heartache and confusion, but also from adoration and patience. Ultimately, the end will come. It will come hurling on the winds of anger, shattering windows and minds. The end is cruelly tragic, like the sudden death of a dear friend. The end, as it represents, is meant to be final. I wish this not to be the end, but only a misunderstanding. Again, I'm blind. I'm trembling and weeping for you. Hopeless never comes to me without a companion called heartache. Despair comes with a hope for perhaps one aspect only. Roles have reversed and it's time for your king to conquer. I refuse to end this on uncertain terms. In whispering tongues, I couldn't help but reflect 'I love you.' though the words may have been mentioned without thought or wise recollection. I did not gain hope to let it dissolve so quickly on one foolish midnight. My hand clutches the tool of Roulette. Truth sets your conscience free and puts my mind at ease. I can't think. I can't feel and my tears are blinding me inside out. The world's turned dark and I'm trembling with confusion, lost in my own beliefs. The truth is so difficult to bear. I'd hang myself for you: I'd love myself for you. I'd love you for one undisputed word of truth, for one word of truth to erupt from you. I've never lied: i've never held my words inside. I've been bleeding and honest from the start. I can't say that of you. I don't know about you. I can't help but think that maybe i'm a fool for believing these broken promises and offers. Youth is so vain and we grasp all we can find, anything to remain afloat and my device was you. Now you've gone and i'm gasping for air, being pulled down so quickly by invisible currents of treachery. You made all these promises that so quickly became my foundations for life. I was warned: I was blind. I was never anything made of a hopeless reality. I've been dreams and heartache and an angel that weeps for my own sin but i thought you could make me real. I thought you could inspire me to live in the despair of common life. I thought we could be honest. I thought we could roam in those backstreets just as we imagined, just as you suggested, just the way that only the two of us could make real. I could show you this affection: in you my discomforts would readily dissolve. I thought you were the one. I believed and imagined it with a whole heart. Don't ever say you love me. Don't ever whisper those vile words mingled with longing. Don't ever hurt me. Don't ever touch me. Don't ever search for me: you won't ever find me. I thought that you loved me, i honestly believed. I tried so hard and it took me so long but you were so patient, so lost in what i thought was the epitome of love. I guess i was wrong. I've always been wrong and now is when i need to heal. Now is when i want to heal. Now is when i have to stop wanting you. Now is when I cannot dream of you, even my dreams are dead: you've deadened my personal joy. You've enhanced my pain. You're a traitor. You're a user. You're cheap and you're vile and you belong in the crudest layer of graves where lies and unkept promises such as yours can breed.