When everything's made to be broken

Words are flying by me. I want to halt them, even for a moment. I want to say "Wait, hold on, I've something to add!"

But I won't. I can't.

I can't say a word, because they just wouldn't understand.

And I hate it because I can't blame them. My problems are a whole other bubble, separated from theirs. They'll hear about my problem, but it doesn't effect them. Maybe if they ignore it, I'll stop trying to say it. It'll go away.

Not for me, but for them.

They just don't understand.

Years upon years.

I'm not a prime example of giving up. I wasn't the one they were supposed to say "You can't do that!"

No. They were. The other people. The true giver-uppers. The people who turned their backs so easily.

The people who figured I am not worth fighting for.