Weighed down by the burden of memory.
Cursed forever by the act of remembering that I'll carry this pain forever because I was meant to.
Because I'm disgusted by what I left you to rot to.
And I can't help but reflect on loss and love, and what I can't correct, or accept, or neglect, I guess.
You asked me once where the fuck I was going – a paraphrase – but I remember my reply because I was silent.
I stood past you, fixed on the floor, I couldn't watch you cry.
Because I could never stay in this place, I'm too attached to leaving someday and looking back just to remember what it's like to have something.
Is this the cost of disappearing?
I'm never satisfied with what I have left.
Only holding what could never be held.
Placing blame on everything but myself.
So here's a toast to losing direction, and always moving, just not very far.
I damn myself for failing to love you, because damning's all I have anymore.
But I'll accept the blame now.
You know I love my mistakes: they're the only way I feel anything.
This is the cost of disappearing.
This is the weight of neglect.
This is the road no one knows how to travel – the beaten trail of a million missteps.
These are stranger songs because I don't know who I am – a bubble burst from the bliss of ignorance, just growing older stuck with the same questions: why can't I move on? What have I learned?