And how freeing it is to realize

That I am participating in some cliche story of depressed lovers and daydreamers.
An audience somewhere admires what I so desperately despise
The very things that push me to the brink are those which they resonate with
However, to free myself from this metaphor would be the ultimate dream
To exist as my own audience
Seeking only to fill the desires I have for myself
And not justifying my weary existence on the possibility that my perseverance is inspiring to some imagined youth

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