Looking back on all I endured,
I realize you never could have handled it.
Your impatience so evident,
as you settle with your deceptive newfound fame.
You never would have been able to handle the long nights.
The empty birthdays.
Every turn of the new year without a hand to hold.
But the eternal question will forever be,
why are you given everything,
yet here I am, hollow, alone and with absolutely nothing to show for my resilient patience?
I may still be alive,
but I think I’m forgetting how to breathe.
Drowning in this unfair existence,
just a shell of who I used to be.
“I’ve been living on the stars, and no one ever got this far alive.”