I'm not saying it.
I'm not writing a note.
This kind of goodbye, is one that will speak for itself. The loudest of volume, while quiet and hidden away.
It is to the people in my life.
To the me that never should have been, but was.
The me that anyone who didn't know it was a lie, saw.
I, as I was, have to go now.
It's been too long time for it.
I have to go, so I can come.
So I can live.
I must speak this goodbye to myself, because it won't make sense to anyone else.
But the truth is, I have always been dead. And I, have to come alive.
