never give up on the good times

i feel like an artist who isn’t allowed to paint.
or a leader who’s not allowed to lead.

i don’t know who i am anymore. or what i want. or why i’m staying.
or why i’m not allowed to say things like, “i want to die”
when deep down inside me, i really do.

every day, every fight always seems like daggers through my heart and they just keep getting plunged deeper and deeper.

and i am so stupid cuz i could choose to be happy but i always choose to be with you.

i am always wrong. and always hurting.

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