The rain washes away everything I hope not to be. The scars and bruises running off my skin like dirt off my hands. It washes away the pain and the sorrow. It starts over. 

But soon we're back to the ending. The part where everything's wrong and broken. Where I can't feel my finger tips. Where I forgot how to spell love. The end. "Such a disappointing finish" they tell me. "We came here for a show" they mumble. "Not me," I say "I came here to live. To be alive and to live." 

So we must live. I must live. And be alive. To try again, start over, reset. And I want to. But I can't. Silly boy, you really thought you could do this. Maybe I can. Maybe I can't. It doesn't matter. It's all the same.

Because at the end of the night im still too scared to turn out the light.