Slowly coming to the realization that I am truly alone
A sad but sterile truth
Being myself is not enough
When in life did I become so empty?
When in life did I become so dense?
They say our happiness is measured through relationships, through love
Well then, if that's the truth, I've got thirty years and nothing to show for it
I'm sick of being shit at love, a flaky friend, a neglectful daughter, an alien
All I've wanted was just to love and be loved
But I'm coming to find that it's one of my flaws
I've been called a narcissist more than once
The world only exists for me
I truly hate being me
