So here goes, 所以在这里不用，

One last letter now. One last attempt to make sense. 现在，最后一个字母。最后一次尝试是有意义的。

Who have I been writing to? I’m not sure anymore. 究竟是谁我一直在写什么？我不知道了。

What have I been trying to accomplish? 有什么我一直在试图完成？

It’s a mystery, I guess. Self-made secrecy. 这是一个谜，我猜。自制的秘密。

Things get cloudy and now all these stories and 事情变得浑浊，现在所有的这些故事和

The struggle as an undercurrent, both get blurry by the minute both get blurrier. 这场斗争作为一股暗流，都得到模糊的一刻都得到较模糊。

So, which voice is this then that I’ve been writing in? Is it my own or his? 所以，这声音是这样的话，我一直在写？这是我自己的还是他的？

Has there ever been a difference between them at all? 已经有过它们之间的区别呢？

   

I don’t know I don’t know. 我不知道，我不知道。

   

One last desperate plea. One last verse to sing. 最后一个绝望的恳求。最后一节唱。

One last laugh track to accompany the comedy. 最后一个笑轨道陪喜剧。

Have I been losing it completely? Losing sanity? 难道我已经失去它完全？失去理智？

Or has it been fabricated, fashioned by the worst of me? 还是已被制造，被我最差的塑造？

I know I knocked the table over because I watched the jar break 我知道我的桌子上敲了，因为我看到坛子里突破

and I’ve been trying to repair it every single stupid day 我一直在试图修复它的每一个愚蠢的一天

But won’t the cracks still show no matter how well it’s assembled 但不会裂缝仍然显示，无论它如何的组装

can I ever just decide to let it die and let you go? 我可以永远只是决定要让它死，让你去吗？

   

All my motives and every single narrative below reflects 我所有的动机和下面的每一个故事反映

that moment when it broke and will I never let it go 那一刻，当它坏了，我将永远不会放手

No matter what? Now I am throwing all the shards away, 无论是什么？现在我抛出所有的碎片带走，

discarding every fragment, and fumbling uncertain towards a Curtain call 放弃每一个片段，并摸索着走向不明朗谢幕

that no one wants to happen, 没有人想发生，

that no ones going to clap for at all, but that still has to be. 没有那些会拍的所有，但仍然有必要。