When it gets to hurt you so much that even the things only you knew made you happy also hurt, is just about time to sleep. Even the things that you didn't even know I liked, things we never even shared, they make me think about you. They break me. They hurt. Things that used to make me happy are not enough anymore. Not even a spark inside is felt. Wind still tries to lift me up, but I don't let it. She blowed the candles out and he helped to close the windows, so she couldn't see the stars again.
My mother once told me that my happiness is fake. I thought it was really drama for them. I thought it wasn't that real. I thought it was me. I just... thought...
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