3Even though the shit gets tough no one's there when the fire starts to burn.
No one's ever there.
When the gun's raised, the prayers were said ,you're looking down from the highest building you can find and the only reason you're trepid toward jumping is because you're still not sure if it will kill you, no one is there.
Because the fire is burning.
It doesn't matter how well you get along, how much you kiss and smile and say meaningless shit to each other, it means nothing in the end, because the end is just that and it will never cease because it is the epitome of the infinitive, it's a paradox that people don't want to understand and would never encounter more than once.
Because the fire is burning.
It doesn't matter how many boyfriends I've had or how many favours I've done, it's never enough to matter when it comes down to the end. When the gun is to my head and the pressure is like a power drill through the temple, no one is there because it doesn't mean enough to fight for it. I'm not worth enough to fight for it. When life has been ravaged and despair is all you find, no one will be there because you're finally facing the truth and you're finally waking up from the dream and you don't mean enough to fucking anyone for them to follow you over the edge.
It just doesn't matter anymore.
I don't even know why I'm writing this to you, maybe it's because you'll open this and think it something meaningful and meaningless and a fucking paradox that's worth the minute attention to smile some cracked glass and think how fucking nice it feels to have someone to read the shit and shoot the shit and pull the shit before even realizing that it's all shit when it's said and done. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore because it never mattered to begin with. No one's ever there. But maybe just the fact that I knocked
And I tried
And I had the audacity to hope
Might assuage these fears of mine before I go to bed with the gun in my hand. But as I left the note at the door, I thought of you and how you might just have the curiosity to listen one last time so you can catch a glimpse of the end that's waiting for you because it's never coming, you're just drawing closer.
And one day you will wake up. And one day you will realize all the shit and the pain and the torture and the misery that surrounds this worthless race and you'll wonder why the fuck you lived so many years inside of it, wandering lost like the worthless shit around you, wondering why the fuck you ever bothered to go through it and for what? For the glass to break and the dream to unravel, so you can see the ultimate misery that we all try to block out of our minds and maybe even think to yourself for a second, about the last note you found on your door, the shrapnel left behind from suicide by gun, and wonder why you even picked it up if it meant those extra years of solace before it shattered.
Or maybe you'll think back and you'll hate because it was one big fuck-all that you found, and it gave you the reason to lose your faith in humanity and what's left of the years you had as you dragged your shackled feet to the ledge. I don't know. I'll never know.
Because the fire is burning.
And no one's ever there.