Sometimes when you win, you lose.
Love is an emotion that I will never understand
until someone actually sits me down and tells me.
I expect it to be a field of flowers,
very much like the fantasies always seen in the movies.
That’ll never happen.

I know I imagine too many things,
and I procrastinate entirely too many times.
You’re always there to tell me that you love me.
I know that I don’t understand;
I really don’t want to give up on you.

I lie on my bed and think to myself:
‘If I wake up the next morning,
will you be there staring right at me?
Or will you be gone, with the door cranked,
with tears rolling down my cheeks.’

I knew love was an emotion that I couldn’t understand,
but sometimes I don’t want love.
That way, I wouldn’t have to suffer heartaches, and the constant worry where she is, what she’s doing, and how I’m never good enough for her.
And that’s the thing.
I’ll never be good enough for her.