I read once that stars get brighter as they die; it has always stuck with me.
|I wish that the thought of living just one more month, one more year, didn't sound like torture;|
or like such an overwhelmingly overbearing feat that I just simply cannot even fathom contemplating committing to.
The truth is, it doesn't matter how many people tell me that 'I have a heart of gold,'
or that 'I'm such a positive light'
because deep down, I know that I am merely a star just before it dies—
shining brightest to distract from my own demise.
Society claims that to be loved by others, we must master loving ourselves first.
I'm not quite sure how true that is.
You see, I have heard the words 'I love you' many times,
but never from my own lips as I gazed in the mirror.
Never, ever directed towards myself.
Simply because in the end, the one fact about me that will forever ring most true is that I will always,
see the value in you, you, and YOU.
Yet for I, all I will ever see,
is somebody despicable, and ugly;
a monster that never should've come to be.