I want to pretend that I am happy,
but I’m not.
I don’t like being held in lower priority
than something inanimate.
I don’t like being in this weird in-between,
all this ambiguity drives me up a wall –
you either want me or you don’t.
I don’t like putting in effort,
and getting no return;
And, boy, don’t even get me started
on what I’ve missed out on…
here I am – feeling stupid and afraid to leave;
afraid to let go.
Everyone tells me to run,
to get out as fast as I can,
that you’re going to do just as everyone has done,
here I sit
because I believe you’re worth it,