I finally wrote you a song, another unsent letter.
You apologise for 'burdening' me with your problems. Don't ever think that. I'm your friend, and you're supposed to ask your friends for help.
The look on my face is not boredom, not annoyance. It's concern.
I hate to see you like this. I hate knowing exactly what you're going through and not being able to do anything about it. I just wish it were possible to take away all the pain.
I hate to talk like this. I hate to act as if there's something wrong that I can't say.
I don't know how to help. I want to, so much. I always want to. I guess that's where I go wrong.
Some people don't appreciate it.
You don't answer my texts anymore. I should have seen this coming. We were drifting apart for years.
But I never wanted to lose you.
I guess it's late to say I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen.
I try to talk to you, and can't get past the weather.
The friend I thought I knew has found something, somewhere better.
But I'm hanging on your line
I thought we could speak together
I don't know what it is with you,
Somehow you seem gone forever.
We were perfect once.
It's hard to see this clearly now and face the truth of our own end.
There's just so much on my mind.
My mind is so full it hurts.
We've made mistakes. We've told these lies.
I guess it doesn't matter anymore
I've given up some thing, I guess that doesn't matter.
I've started other things, I guess that doesn't matter.
It's funny. I barely know these people, and yet I loathe to spend time away from them.
They make me laugh in a time when my laughter is ephemeral; lost before it is even found.
I'm trying so hard to be happy. It's what I want more than anything.
I feel like I've lost acquaintances. I used to be so social and full of life and happy
I can't explain it but I'm just sick of being around people
A little optimism can go a long way.
Your own mind is a sacred enclosure into which nothing harmful can enter except by your permission.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson