I have no place to go; Nobody to call me back home. I may as well live alone.

To suddenly care for someone is inconvenient when they're already gone.

This unchangeable grieving of never being heard, understood, or like others must be fate or perhaps it's my undoing.

What could I achieve upon expressing my feelings when no one cares to listen?

The one who tries so hard to jump in, never gets to fit in.

There's nothing to look forward too; Only the fact that ourselves matters.