Don't Write Me Off
It’s never been easy for me
To find words to go along with a melody
But this time there’s actually something on my mind
So please forgive these few brief awkward lines
Since I've met you, my whole life has changed
It’s not just my furniture, you've re-arranged
I was living in the past,
but somehow you've brought me back
And I haven’t felt like this since before Frankie said relax
And while I know, based on my track record
I might not seem like the safest bet
All I’m asking you, is don’t write me off, just yet
For years I've been telling myself, the same old story
That I’m happy to live off my so called, former glories
But you've given me a reason, to take another chance
Now I need you, despite the fact that you've killed all my plants
And though I know, I've already blown my chances
Than anyone should ever get
All I’m asking you, is don’t write me off, just yet
Don’t write me off just yet
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I wonder why. Why why why. After thinking and thinking, I still don't get a satisfactory answer. Or at least, an answer that seems logically right. I only get answers by my instinct, which I know can't be right, but still... They feel so right.
Do I deserve what I think I should? Maybe I don't. Do they deserve what they get?
Maybe I've been paranoid all this time.
Maybe I shouldn't worry so much. Because on the surface, everything looks so right. But then the atmosphere and feel is so wrong. It's like a song. A song has music and lyrics, the music is what you can see, and the lyrics are what really tell you, and let you understand everything.
I hate going to school. Only partly because of the teachers, work. Partly. There's more than that to me. Sometimes I really, really hope I'll never cry in public. And so far, in my 6 years of schooling in PHPPS, I've only cried, once or so. The reason I cried wasn't over any school matters. Nobody stared at me like I'm some freak when I cried, they sincerely comforted me, even though some of them did very badly at that. But still. It was sincere, and that's all that matters.
I think I like you. I think. Because, if I do, then I'd know it completely. I question myself about whether I do or do not. I still can't get my answer. Sometimes I try to tell myself I don't. But I feel I do. And when, I try to embrace the fact that I do like you, there's a part of me that holds me back, and it feels like I don't, at all.
I think I do, because I always want your attention. But I know it really isn't possible. You don't give a shit about me, do you? We are just like... acquaintances. It's an undeniable fact, because if we weren't acquaintances, we would have talked more. I try to convince myself that, okay, you're not that kind of person, that you're the kind of person that cares for all your friends. It feels like you don't. I hope you do.
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I love sleeping, eating and my imaginary tattoo.
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