You were someone I lost, permanently. I began to doubt if I could ever do fight for you and if I could have do so, would I have no residual post-regret? That's the truth, actually. I asked myself if there is one— one—thing or person able to anchor me to this place when I so desperately want to leave. If you asked me that back when I was crying in the toilet a few months ago I would have handed you a different answer. I would hand it without a piece of doubt. I swear.
It feels sour and I get teary when I look at you and feel that wanting so faintly underneath every cell I posess. Along the way, I found a new answer if you would ask me again if anything could anchor me to this place. Well, darling, no one is worth the sacrifice and I'm no good at being noble.
Like a record being erased off a fallible system, nothing is ever deleted. You know this, right? Nothing is actually wiped off. They're just merely replaced and stopped being priorities.
