for you-fyfe.

You were fine before, they would tell me.

Questioning how I became so disordered.

To them, it's them. I'm always not the person they thought I was or knew. I changed- often said in the end. Come around when I'm better, together again they notice me rotting and it perturbs them. Like I said, they think it's them. Though say it's me.

Well it is, in a way. Of course I'm dandy, yes I'm still breathing. I look alive most times, how could I not be? Then again it was them. I picked up the pieces they left me with because I could not let myself rot without feeling as guilty and responsible for the people around me and them. I stood back up so they did not have to live, if they thought of it, with their conscience latch on past mistakes or regrets to come towards me. Because it might not have been love to them but it was just love for me. It was love that made me.

-riri-