Talking's hard so I write it down. My chest hurts as if it's collapsing in, Or maybe exploding out. Have you left yet dear, Or are you on your way? Or do I just have the wrong day? I've been off all week. My depression's bleak. How will I feel once it's all over. Will it be over? Will it ever be done? How will I know when the war's been won? I miss the days when it was simply complicated. I hate how now I had to hurt people, But mostly myself. Am I doing what makes me happy? I don't know. The same answer you give when I ask you if you love me. That really hurt, I think you know. But at least I know it wasn't a lie. But "I don't know" can turn into "no". Time passes on, Bringing me closer to a final day, I hope. Forgive me if I leave it all behind. Maybe you won't be hurt, But you said you'd at least remember me. Everyone tells me that I've helped them somehow. Somehow I've given the