Dear Valentine, I'm done. I quit. I've fucked up more than I'd like to admit.
I've got a broken wall from throwing broken fists; a punched in hole for every opportunity missed, every friend I've had, every girl I've kissed.
And I don't know what to do.
Dear Valentine, my light's snuffed out and it's not even worth screaming about.
My heart sinks, my elbows reach my knees, palms to my eyes and I accept this defeat.
Nothing worth fighting for, nothing worth breathing for. And I don't know what to do. I wish I was dead.