Maybe I've been sitting in my house alone, singing my favorite songs a bit too much.
Maybe I'm waiting for the right one,
instead of looking for her.
Maybe I'm a loveable perfectionist.
Or maybe I just hate myself.
How much reevaluation am I going to put myself through here?
How much destruction and reconstructing will take place in the coming months?
Will I get to see the crystal blue ocean, and lush paradise of my dreams?
Or the same four, dirty, walls.
What will tomorrow bring?
What will tomorrow destroy?
Will this ever go away?
Will I ever be happy?
Was I ever happy?
Will my fingers, ever wrap around that ineffable invisible dream of mine?
What do I want?
And what did I do to deserve having it taken from me before I ever had it?
