Reason can be poison

I'd rather not breathe if breathing now means inhaling memories of you and slowly slipping into this bleak hole of madness. I've already tried placing reason in front of the demands of emotion; but my heart's steering the game, and it won't let anything or anyone get in its way. All I see are the imaginary lines I've built: purposely holding me back to prevent any further damage. Thin white lines that point out the things you haven't done, and which make you less worthy for the chase. Because these flimsy lines are my excuse. I need something that will show me I am definitely doing the wrong thing that we are not meant for each other and what I'm doing is suicide. But whenever it seems like I've finally found my answer, life snatches everything away, and leaves me feeling more confused than ever. I am lost, and I'm no longer just tracing the paths of an unending cycle, I now breathe, taste, and live the cycle.

Opus: Use Somebody by King of Leons