I am a phase.
I am filled with joy and happiness,
No matter what’s happening in my life.
So when people are down.
They turn to me.
To hang out.
I provide a safe environment.
They can talk about whatever,
And vent their hearts out.
But when they have rebuilt themselves,
From the ashes in my passenger seat.
They are too good for me.
Too good to hang out with the girl,
Who let them breakdown in her car.
I am a safe haven for the broken hearted,
Lost souls who don’t feel alive,
But merely drifting through reality.
I have tissues,
And money for whatever their mind desires.
I have set destinations for the late night drives,
When they feel there is no more beauty to be seen.
I have stories to help empathize
And advice to help sympathize.
I am a safe.
Holding secrets for those around me.
The same people who have left me in the dust.
Weather they spent months,
Calling me their best friend.
Some around me say I must live for myself.
But I believe I have a bigger purpose on this earth,
Then to only care about myself.
I believe I was meant for rebuilding the broken.
I have come to terms with the fact,
That I am merely a pit stop on their journeys.
But they don’t realize they are my story.
Each chapter of my life is created,
With different people needing my help.
With each new chapter begins with being left behind,
By the previous occupants of my time.
“Why do you let those who hurt you back into your life?”
Because if I didn’t.
I would have no one.