A rush to the head and I find myself stumbling for words at such an awkward moment, could I lie again? I've been doing it for so long we should all be used to it now. I play the game like the others but it is far too distracting when you hear them recite words of wisdom practiced in front of the mirror to entice everyone else that they are true. All along this, I don't really care anymore. I know I used to, and sometimes I still do but we are merely practicing common courtesy like long lost friends reuniting after mistakes made.
I cover up all these awkwardness by playing it cool; stroking her hair, clutching onto the coffee cup, licking my lips like I really don't care but you hope I do and I know I do inside. I've never thought its easy to forget the first, but I've undermined your existence by thinking it would be so easy to throw you out like I've done so many times before. Our paths constantly cross like they will in the future because our choices are always intertwined, and I know I still have to prove myself to you. It never matters how the progression of the battle goes because when I win at the end, I always feel like I've lost. I've never thought of coming in second to you, because that might be so ideal. I've pushed myself so I'll never stay in the shadow of your inadequacy. And inside, I am merely crumbling with everyone else around me I cling on to. I lie back with a hunch, the mug in my hand. As the steam rises, the aroma floats around and I always, always hope you are looking at me and hoping I am thinking of you.
I don't think I will ever get better.
I cover up all these awkwardness by playing it cool; stroking her hair, clutching onto the coffee cup, licking my lips like I really don't care but you hope I do and I know I do inside. I've never thought its easy to forget the first, but I've undermined your existence by thinking it would be so easy to throw you out like I've done so many times before. Our paths constantly cross like they will in the future because our choices are always intertwined, and I know I still have to prove myself to you. It never matters how the progression of the battle goes because when I win at the end, I always feel like I've lost. I've never thought of coming in second to you, because that might be so ideal. I've pushed myself so I'll never stay in the shadow of your inadequacy. And inside, I am merely crumbling with everyone else around me I cling on to. I lie back with a hunch, the mug in my hand. As the steam rises, the aroma floats around and I always, always hope you are looking at me and hoping I am thinking of you.
I don't think I will ever get better.
