There are those you trust, those who've broken your trust, and those you will never open up to. Every beginning has and end, and every end a new beginning. Things live... and things die. I've given trust, and mostly had it broken, but a trust that is crumpled is similar to paper... it'll never be the same again, forever wrinkled. My home is no longer a home, it's just a house... the people that live there are full of anger and I feel like if I do one thing wrong they could blow up on me any second, so I'm trying my best to be perfect for them.
Things are breaking apart, tearing at the seams. I'm holding on by very few threads, but, they have to hold until the day i'm revolving my current life around comes. The day i try to get free.
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