Its Just

Its just this sinking feeling I'm worried about. That if you knew the songs on repeat in my head, you would cry. You might understand me better, but if you just felt these songs the way I do...oh I can already see the sadness in your eyes. Just to know no matter how happy I am, I will never be fixed. The past will still just be mine and yours will always be yours. There is no way we can heal each other. We can only heal what we've done. But as I'm tired and so sick I still feel the pain you caused and I wish your sorry could last just as long. Oh god, if you read these, if you'd see n all I'd written and all I've sang, I feel it would break your heart. I'm such a sad case. Your lost, but your past has it all together. I'm jealous of all that you have. You and your trips, you've seen the beauty of the world and I've seen the worst I've had the greatest life and I wouldn't trade it for the world, but I can't help to think what its like to be better off. I know I'm disappointing. No longer turned on, no longer brave. I can barely look you in the eye. But no matter the present, I still remember our past, when we were first meeting. It was my birthday party and I spent a lot of it with you. Its like a scene out of my favorite movie. But will it be just as perfect? I feel like if I expect you to be the last one, I'm denying myself some sort of freedom. I wonder if you're as scared of disappointing me as I am you. You have worried that I would be mad about things I just brushed off or didn't worry about at all. I wish you could just see that I was in pain and worry about that.Its silly but the only way I may believe you really care is just a kiss on the back of the head. It would mean much more to me than I think, anything. I'd feel like you were in this for real. Right now I think you just need a little closeness without the worry. If we're nothing, why worry? But this is my fourth full page of text I've hand written so you must mean something to me. I just can't figure out what it is, you wish for things and I wish I could give them to you. You are so simple, so delicate in your ways. My brash exterior pains on yours. Requests so simple, requests I just cannot fill. When you read these I do not want you to believe I lived with inner turmoil. I hope that's a wish of yours I can make come true. I do believe that you don't worry about me, but at the same time, I don't want you to. Even though I dream of a release, you needn't worry about my problems. I'll try to let everything be alright in the end. We've all got our own shit. Relationships share these problems, with us as nothing, we have no problems. An ugly rationale at that, but the only one I can believe at this point. The same path I keep over thinking. I'll see you tonight, as usual. Settling is our survival.