If I could fix you, I would.
I would take the weight of your world off your shoulders and put it on my own, doubling the amount I'm carrying.
I would jump in front of a bullet, a train, a grenade, anything to keep it from hitting you.
I would do anything to help you because you're too young and too amazing to be this sad.
That nobody else senses your sadness hurts me.
If I could fix you, I would.
But I can't.
Because there is no bullet. There is no train. There is no grenade. There is no way for me to take away your pain and put it on myself.
You're your own bullet, and I can't stop you from pulling the trigger.