it don't break even.

Something trivial to one person can mean so much to another. The wounds you both bestowed upon my flesh still produce blood, but at least now it seems to be coagulating. Been trying to convince myself that I am not the sun, but it's hard not to assume every malicious thing that's publicly displayed isn't about me. The rose tinted glasses are gone, long since crushed beneath heavy footfalls and while I do miss the days when I could look through them and pretend, they are definitely long gone and I've seen those true colors shine in their most garish way. Perhaps the following conclusion is mutual, but I can assure you that my trust was yours and whether you believe that or not is up to you...

You fucking lied to me. How the fuck do you sleep at night?