Maybe one day I’ll be better.
Right?
I mean, maybe one day I’ll be human and beautiful and happy.
Maybe one day I can see more than the black shade of my heart.
I think one day I’ll be able to be off on my own, and move on with my life.
I mean, I can get better. I can love again and forget you. A fool would maybe love me back,
Right?
Maybe tomorrow I will stop crying.
Maybe the day after that I will force a smile.
Maybe in six months I will only think of you every other minute.
Maybe.
Right?
I mean… I think that maybe one day I’ll be the one to love me better than any other person will ever be able to.
I think I could be here again but be really, here; alive.
But, maybe one day I won’t be a crumbling, deteriorating living, but not really living at all, organism.
One day, I could breathe again, not hate you, love someone–anyone, move on, be happy, not medicated, not upset, not full of hate, not stuck and lost or alone.
Maybe one day, I’ll be better.


Right?

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