Smoking again. It's a fix my body craves, especially when I get into slumps like this one. I'm thinking about things, emotions I shouldn't have and emotions I simply do not have at all but I can't bring myself to say anything because I'm just that stubborn or maybe I'm just that scared. I can't say what I want to because I lack the heart to care and here I am, slowly killing myself over it. Roxas, you're confusing. Logic does not exist where you're involved and I wonder how long it'll be until you grow tired of this limbo in which we dance. Not quite living but not quite dead, this existence is slowly eating what's left of me. But you... you should be alive. You have what it takes and I don't. A heart. I know it's in there, under the layers of apathy and feigned disinterest. Don't think I don't. You can't out-manipulate the manipulator. And now I'm wondering, did I make you what you are? Did I manipulate you into this? I want to take sole responsibility for it, but I know I can't. Somewhere in your heart, you chose this for yourself so I can't simply take all the blame. And in that same place, you knew it'd turn out like this.
I know you're going to leave me because I'm meant to be alone.