It hurt.
Maybe like that burn on my arm when I was a kid.
Maybe like the time I fell face down to the floor,
Or the thousandth time I fell from the staircase at my place.
Well, when you fall a lot, it don't matter much if you fall next.
You see, I didn't want to hurt myself neither one of those times.
Nobody likes pain...
Or, nearly no one does.
What's this all about?
I'm dying here.
I shooting myself from a distance.
I'm killing my guts.
You know what?
Fuck it.
It won't be a first, It wont be a last.
You've hurt maybe.
I've been hurt ten thousand times, no want for it.
No staircases, no floor, no burns.
This was real. This was emotional sensationalism;
This was you missing and me worried at late night,
This was no word from you, no lies, no nothing.
Get it out. I'm dead.
