Change Isn't Rare Change isn't rare — it's just a surprise. Hurt was never supposed to look like you. I guess goodbyes were too honest for someone like you. I lied to myself — because the truth had teeth, and I couldn’t bear the bleeding. Maybe the sky told you something else. Even Chucky the doll felt more real than your love. A coward is still something. You were less. That’s how I fool people — with sarcasm stitched into soft spots. But no cruelty masks the real question: Why wasn’t I enough? The void. The space. The hole you left — a wound that forgets how to close. Your voice turned distant, vast — like a nightmare with no sound. This doesn’t feel real. It’s terrifying. Words could never break me. But a blurry text did. A scrambled truth turned my falling into drowning. The truth I tried to turn into a lie became the knife that finally broke me.