Someone once told me...
...I talked too much
...I'm such a downer
...I'm too loud
...I'm too blunt
...I never look them in the eyes
...I try too hard
...I don't have a heart
...I never was a child
...That they can't imagine life without me
...That they'd cry after my funeral for days
...That I'm worth it
...That they looked forward to seeing me
Someone once told me I changed their life.
Someone once told me they loved me. Someone once meant it.
Someone once raised their glass to me.
At one point in my life, someone once kissed me with feeling behind it.
Someone once referred to me as "friend" in public in front of me.
...I guess in the end you start to think of the beginning.
I once believed that romance would come to those who wished hard enough.
I once told someone I loved them. I once meant it.
I once told someone I wrote poetry.
I once told someone I saw them die in my dreams.
I once told someone that I thought love was a farce. I once told someone a lie.
No matter how hard I try to lie about it, I'll never lose the feeling I always get when I sit alone in the dark.
I don't tell jokes with conviction in the dark. The dark jsut reminds me of a time I held someone in my arms.
I don't pretend that I'm alone in this. I know I'm not. I know many people feel the same as I do now. I know not what spurred this, yet now that the spigot has finally opened, I can't seem to shut it again.
As much as I change, one thing stays the same: I eventually rub everyone the wrong way.
I have a lot of my life ahead of me. I think about my future, and I don't know what it holds. It's all well and good to say that you will acheive your dreams, but it oh so much another thing to reach out and take it.
I sigh. I lean back and stare at the computer screen and read and reread what I wrote. Every thing I get to the line "I guess in the beginning..." I perceive this as a suicide note. It isn't.
I remember a month ago I would have said that romance is the spice of life. That it makes life fun. I would only assume so. Almost every couple I see is happy. But I take a closer look. He cheated on her. She cheated on him. She avoids him like a goddamn plague. I used to dream of being the main goddamn reason that someone woke up looking forward to their day. That I was the one thing they wanted all throughout algebra. Today it doesn't matter. I can't remember the last time I've seen someone as happy as I've dreamed.
Because it was dark in that closet. It was dark all the way up to the number 9. For one moment my life flared up like a flame, but I let it slowly burn out. I may have moved on from that now, but I will never forget.
But what does anyone care? I guess I know the reason I started. It's the same reason you won't understand why.
Someone once told me that they never understood anything I said.
...I'm such a downer
...I'm too loud
...I'm too blunt
...I never look them in the eyes
...I try too hard
...I don't have a heart
...I never was a child
...That they can't imagine life without me
...That they'd cry after my funeral for days
...That I'm worth it
...That they looked forward to seeing me
Someone once told me I changed their life.
Someone once told me they loved me. Someone once meant it.
Someone once raised their glass to me.
At one point in my life, someone once kissed me with feeling behind it.
Someone once referred to me as "friend" in public in front of me.
...I guess in the end you start to think of the beginning.
I once believed that romance would come to those who wished hard enough.
I once told someone I loved them. I once meant it.
I once told someone I wrote poetry.
I once told someone I saw them die in my dreams.
I once told someone that I thought love was a farce. I once told someone a lie.
No matter how hard I try to lie about it, I'll never lose the feeling I always get when I sit alone in the dark.
I don't tell jokes with conviction in the dark. The dark jsut reminds me of a time I held someone in my arms.
I don't pretend that I'm alone in this. I know I'm not. I know many people feel the same as I do now. I know not what spurred this, yet now that the spigot has finally opened, I can't seem to shut it again.
As much as I change, one thing stays the same: I eventually rub everyone the wrong way.
I have a lot of my life ahead of me. I think about my future, and I don't know what it holds. It's all well and good to say that you will acheive your dreams, but it oh so much another thing to reach out and take it.
I sigh. I lean back and stare at the computer screen and read and reread what I wrote. Every thing I get to the line "I guess in the beginning..." I perceive this as a suicide note. It isn't.
I remember a month ago I would have said that romance is the spice of life. That it makes life fun. I would only assume so. Almost every couple I see is happy. But I take a closer look. He cheated on her. She cheated on him. She avoids him like a goddamn plague. I used to dream of being the main goddamn reason that someone woke up looking forward to their day. That I was the one thing they wanted all throughout algebra. Today it doesn't matter. I can't remember the last time I've seen someone as happy as I've dreamed.
Because it was dark in that closet. It was dark all the way up to the number 9. For one moment my life flared up like a flame, but I let it slowly burn out. I may have moved on from that now, but I will never forget.
But what does anyone care? I guess I know the reason I started. It's the same reason you won't understand why.
Someone once told me that they never understood anything I said.