It’s a Sunday night and I’m thinking about you like always.
I do not understand why I can’t just have everything I want.
What makes it so hard? I am pretty aren’t I? They say I am.
It’s hard to tell when you’re looking at yourself in the mirror.
You consume my season in a disconcertingly familiar way.
I thought this phase of my life was finished but it drags on.
Maybe I don’t even like you, you’re just a sweet distraction.