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Your self-esteem is at an all-time low. You are but an insignificant speck in the world, as negligible as the faces you pass, always there, but also never there.
All cliches become cliche for a reason, and that is for being true. It is a lovely truth, overused, misused. It is loving beyond the visible, grave innocence, and happily-ever-afters. Its reality is so common that it has lost its truth. It is a lie, and excuse, a fictional plot.
Neon lights took my father away.
Took my trust, my respect.
Left nothing but shame.
You are the sun and I am the moon. Without you, I have no light. Without you, I am just another speck of dust floating aimlessly, endlessly.
