Easiest thing.

Why was I the easiest thing to get rid of?

Not the friends and people who weren't there for you. But instead, me.

Why do I have to live in pain while you live happily?

Why am I always the artist and never the muse?

Always the seeker, never the found?

Always the shoulder, never the confider.

Was it so wrong for me to have wanted to be loved in return like it wasn't just a duty?

Always the bigger person.

Always the one who has to make the right choice.

Always have to be fearless even when I'm afraid,

deathly afraid of being abandoned.

I let you know of my fears and you made me live it.