I don't run from you. I walk slowly, and you don't care neough to stop me.

Finding my own words, my own little stage, my own epic drama, my own scripted page. Send you the rough draft, I'll seal it with tears, maybe you'll read it, and I'll reappear.

And the best that you could hope for is hardly the best.

I could explode, you never know, it would suit the moment perfectly.

So take your cold, cold heart and drown, and don't forget to take deep breaths.

And I can't let you let me down again.

You know what? No. Get out. I'm tired of hearing about how nothing in your life is good enough...including me.

Would you want me when I'm not myself? Wait it out while I'm someone else? And I, in time, will come around. I always do for you.

Maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's not for anything.

Entertain me, tell me it didn't mean anything. It's vengeance worth my tolerance, and I could be careless, but I promise you'll feel everything.