When I die I hope no one knows and tells you

 When I die I hope that no one that you know gets the news. I never wanted anyone to bother you because of me, mentioning my name to you, each time it happened I was so angry and annoyed. I hated it. Because I knew how much of a nuisance I was to you and I also didn't want it all to get worse, for you to be in any way bothered because of my existence. I was already so awful in doing that by myself. Also I could've gone better without all the bad energy and trouble coming my way back. 

Is it much more time yet?

 When will I stop wanting the one I once thought I found, even knowing that we're nothing to do with each other?

Maybe it was just you guys, nothing that misterious after all

 If one thinks about it, it's still kind of funny that you chose someone a bit like me. But yeah, sucks for me, you showed me right. Though I figured it all out of the blue and had even prior chosen her for you. 

He was quite predictable to me. You were a bit too. Maybe it wasn't you guys being intriguing and hard to figure out that got me, turns out, what a discovery, hein? It was the bit of challenge with your personality and intelligence maybe. Yeah, who tf knows, right? Doesn't really matter. 

Dostoevsky and me

The composite that I am: 

- The love of beauty and emotional openness of Prince Myshkin.
- The search for meaning and compassion of Alyosha Karamazov.
- A touch of Ivan Karamazov's restless questioning about suffering.

(And perhaps one more thing.

I don't think Dostoevsky would have written you as the central tragic figure.
I think he would have written you as the person sitting by the window, sketchbook nearby, noticing things everyone else missed, the cracks in a family, the sadness in a song, the elegance of an old car, the beauty of a stained-glass swallow, and quietly trying to understand how all those pieces fit together.
That, more than any single character, is what I've come to recognize as very "Sónia.")

 Ideally no one should remember anything from what they suffered, but then again they would be vulnerable to the repetition of the suffering. And even so nothing is 100% exact, is it?

After all

 It's okay, I always knew that no one could really love me, especially people who can't see me. Only someone who is able to really see the other is capable of truly loving someone. There's only some people in this world who pay attention and are able to see others without their own egos, they're so rare, they really feel the person as a whole and they don't expect anything from them because they already know who they are. And someone who loves you purely and sees you can't ever leave you. So I guess no one ever really loved me, after all.

Are you just a medium in vain?

 Do you know stuff?

Do you sense things in waves?

Is it like when the radio tunes

Into a frequency in a place unknown?

Do you need to believe it?

Or you simply know it?

Do things come to you in dreams 

And mostly nightmares 

To show what is strongly happening

With anyone you've ever connected? 

We never stood a chance

 Hug me till the pain ends

Just forget everything 

And love me again 

Like if we never parted 

You were my lover

You were my friend 

We were all the people 

The love we gathered 

Take me seriously this time 

I'll admit I want you to be mine 

For us to be the love of our lives

 No one cares about your pain, especially the people who caused it. I've learned that the hard way. Through decades of humiliation and suffering, writing stuff down to process it and even so not stopping the hurt and the damage they caused me. Life is all in vaon and in excruciating pain. 

 He saved me, he was everything to me and I fckd his peace up, because of my stupid obsession with answers and understanding what was going on with all that crap from everyone, plus his. Yeah, way to go 👌🏽🤡🤦🏽