fuck, i miss you
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3AM again, just like every day.
I regret what I stopped doing more than what I did wrong.
I miss things that never happened,
the possibility of experiencing them once excited me but now the time
has passed. All that remains with me are
smiles, pleasant memories, sounds, smells.
They say longing is the joy of being
sad... I don't know whether to call this longing.
This is for all the times I didn't take a chance
because of fear, it's for everything that could've been.
This is, also, for everything that was,
for the times I felt as alive as those who nearly died but didn't.
Am I still the same? And if not, is that wrong? It's strange...
Do you exist? What body does your soul inhabit?
Do I know? Do I have you, did I have you or will I have you?
There's so many questions,
it rains and the music in the
background is aligned with what I feel...
5AM again.
Do I exist? Will I exist?
Fuck, I miss you...