I'll try to do it right this time around.

I try to see the good in life,
but good things in life are hard to find.
Blown away, blown away.
Can we make this something good?

(Maybe you'll be relieved to know that I doubt myself more than I do you.)

And what if I tried to trust, just for once?
I'm trying, I am.
But you're not making this easy are you?
You give me a million and one reasons for doubt,
And it doesn't bother you that I am one giant, psychological mess.

Once, I wanted a lot for us.
But as the days drew on, all I wanted faded away,
with a growing recognition (on my part) of the impossibility of fulfilment.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
your lack of concern hurts.

It does.


It really, does.

But why does it matter to you? It is my mess, not yours, afterall.