I don’t understand myself. Why do I care about people who never cared half as much? It’s like we crave the hurt, the being pushed away, and the never being enough. Trauma is funny like that. It makes you believe that it’s all you deserve and then it becomes a vicious circle that we’re all trapped in. People say everyone sucks, that there are no good ones anymore. To be honest I don’t think that’s ever been true. I think the world has destroyed our self-esteem and so we destroy everything around us. Fire breathes fire and there just isn’t enough water to go around. We all want to put out the flames but the heat sizzles beneath our skin only causing more sparks. No one is evil. We’re all just pieces of a puzzle that never quite fit. We want to fit so bad though. So we push and we shove until we’re breaking us and every other piece apart, leaving nothing but shredded cardboard behind. No picture left to create. No happy family portrait to hang on our walls. Just ashes and dust forever floating in the wind. I wish I could change it. Show everyone the truth. But I’m just as lost at them. Lending a hand that is only covered in soot and coughing up smoke that brings us to our knees. There has to be an answer, a reason, a chance, something that changes the hurt boiling inside. I get so angry at all the good but stupid people in the world and yet I’m just another clone walking the pattern we’re given. Why? How? When? Those are the questions we all ask, but it never matters, and it’s never answered. So we keep on going, setting alight all that we hold dear, hoping that one day it’ll catch us on fire too.