muse:poison

muse:
i'm reading your story, your life on my brightly lit computer screen. perfect, perfect, perfect, that's all this is. all because you've felt needed by somebody. wanted by somebody. loved by somebody. the lack of that burns through my veins like a poison, igniting something within me that you've never seen before. your story, your perfection is all i've ever wanted. and though it's fitting (because you've struggled so much), i can't help but feel cheated. how can this even be fair? i shouldn't be feeling this anger against you, you have no hand in the matter. but it's seeping through me entirely and i can't help but hate you just a little bit for having what i've sought for so long.