It was a Saturday in my mother’s room, when I wrote this to confess to you. I’ve been thinking a lot about myself and this may seem like a bit too much, but I think it will help. Lately, things have been getting rough. I don’t know where to go with the way that I feel. If I told you once I guess that wasn’t enough. I’m still faced with the same old flaws, hoping one day to resolve them all.
There will be no trace of me to follow. There will be no trace of me at all. I move through life like a ghost through a field of fallen snow. You’ll find no trace of me at all.
So where do you go when you’re on your own, when the very thing that makes you who you are lends to an emptiness you can not ignore? Because the people that surround me now all lost their faith in happiness. We’re all losing ourselves to this bitterness. When nothing ever seems to change, when no one ever comes your way, when home is just a place to stay, you’ll lose yourself to the same old ways. I’m tired now, I must admit. It takes a lot to live with this, but I promise you I will never quit.
What am I to do with all of this time? All those details I remember way me down as I close my eyes. Even in my dreams there is no place to rest. Every moment carried over, each day like the rest.