Is this death really you?

Currently listening: Something Vague by Bright Eyes

Some words are only meant to be thought but not spoken. Some words you think you were better off without ever having heard them. Some words, after being said stay in your mind and never leave. Then you can picture the situation in which those words were said, and it is like it happens over and over again. There is no chance to forget. There is no chance to break free. And those words will come back every time, and they will make you wish things were different. They will make you wish you could turn back time. And if you could, then you know you would. And then those words cut deep in your skin and leave a scar you will never be able to heal. And it is there, and then you remember what you said, and wish you could take it back.

There, she said. Wasn't that being done already? Couldn't she keep her mouth shut for once? She had to go on. She had to complain. She had to whine. She had to effing claim. She had to let him know what she was thinking. And all was lost. I am, he said. But that wasn't enough for her and she had brought her own bad luck, she would now rot. - When it all comes down, chapter 'I'll figure out the number when I actually write it'

And now I die, and the death was really you. And I dream, every night, and then the dream becomes a nightmare and sometimes the perfect dream. And then I am confused, and I want to know if those dreams have any meaning. But they don't. They are just ridiculous pieces of my imagination that will never be more than just an alternate world in which I get to be happy only for as long as I am asleep. Maybe it is me. Maybe the 'something wrong' I am looking for in everything I do is not everyone else. It is me. And I get to that coffin I call my apartment. And I sink in my chair and brush the snow off my hair. And I have that dream in my head that just won't go away. And I know it is not a ghost, just something vague that we are not seeing.