who are you?

the moon is god's middle child.
the second one in the bunch out of three things that coexist with us.
the sun, the moon, and the earth.
the moon only shines because it is cast in the sun's second-hand glow.
i can understand why it doesn't shine during the day.
it's so ashamed that it doesn't have its own light, so it shines at night.
the sun is the perfect child, while the earth is the cherished one.
sometimes though, the last born is the worst-case scenario.
i was born with a depression that no one seems to notice unless you're extremely close.
i don't trust people because i know that they'll just call me psychotic about my ideals.
my life is a twisted rope that i can't call life and death.
i'm simply going to call it darkness versus avalon.
the day my mum died, sure, i cried. but there was this certain sort of solitude that prevented all emotion and expression those seconds after it happened.
only toby and i can tell you what it's like to walk out of a room and walk back in to a dead person.
the touch of cold dead flesh never seemed so real.
the way that the color drifted out, and left a pale corpse in the bed in the hospital.
the same hospital i was born in.
the same hospital patrick dempsey was born in.
the same fucking hospital i've been to for every little fucking problem in my useless pathetic life.
that's real life.
when you realize, that the same place...the same earth, the same solar system you attended your most happiest and courageous moments, you also attended the moment where you died, and never woke back up.
i lied.
i fucking lied.
i told her she'd live
and i lied.
i don't deserve to live,
anymore than a serial killer.