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On the normal days,
I’m just happy to be alive.
Going from room to empty room
Actually feels alright
I’ve always felt like something is missing
I thought it was something I could find in myself
But I was wrong and I’m still drifting.
It has to be given to me by someone else.
For a week I listened to them talking
And, like normal, I just kept walking.
They convinced me the day of
So I went home to see what I was made of.
I wasn’t happy enough to wear a dress
Instead a shirt and jeans nicely pressed.
With those black boots I had wanted so bad
It felt so good to not be so sad.
They had each other on the floor.
And one of them wanted more
But I was too afraid to give.
Maybe I was too scared to live.
I was so alone on the floor.
Everyone else had so much more.
Have you made me so insecure that I can’t be me?
In the end, I left feeling more alone than they’ll ever see.
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