I'm always

In my head the voice won't stop. My own voice that's constantly drumming up conversations of what ifs and of talks. Talks that we've had or would have or will have that always seem to result in the same ending. Loneliness. And it's always a myriad of topics. From death to love, to life, to freedom. To loneliness to happiness. But never a different ending. I always leave in one form or fashion. The lies as small as they are are small enough to brush off, but why should I have to brush them off at all.