I’ll admit to being hurt because your closest friends don’t understand you.
Hurt because someone potentially possible appeared and you can’t let the person in.
So hurt because the mistakes always land on you and you can’t be there for anyone else.
Because I’m young and I want to learn. I don’t want to hurt. Yet it is all on me.
Perfect, loving family. Good friends. Someone might have loved me.
Wishing I’m stuck within the walls of aleppo. Come kill me, bombs. Come.