No, you're wrong.
I'm going to tell you exactly what will happen after «this».
«This» is just a thing. It won't last forever and it won't always work as you think it will.
Because I'm fuckingly and damnedly broken and there's nothing or someone in the world that can fix it.
You'll move on. You'll be okay.
In a couple of years, you won't remember me anymore and
you'll be with your parties, your sports, your pretty girls, your drugs, your studies,
and eventually you'll get a degree, find a girl who loves you and get children together.
(Even a dog, because I know how much you love pets).
And yeah, I'll be stuck in here — somewhere safe where I can hide over and over again, love.
The only and raw truth is I'll be admiring from distance
with these common, crystalline and bright eyes, how happier you are — there, but without me.