When I’m in company
I have a habit of imagining
How they probably see me
It’s like taking a mental picture
With the camera being the eyes
Of my counterpart
Does that one strand fall into my face
The way I know it looks best?
Is my laughter contagious?
Are my eyes sparkling?
Do I look pretty from their point of view?
Why the fuck don’t I concentrate
On my own fucking view
-self obsession vs. self destruction-
How do you know if it’s love?
Who even decided that it exists
Really, there is no proof at all for it
So how do you know?
I guess you just have to believe
You will never feel it yourself.
-proof of love-
But often say
We don’t have the words
We don’t know how to express
We can’t really describe
You know what I mean?
You know when
You think of something you did
And the memory doesn’t even feel real?
There’s two reasons for that
Either it was something so great you can’t wrap your mind around the fact that it really happened
When it happened
you closed your mind and weren’t really ‘there’
I am a closed mind
I want to have thoughts only to myself
Only for myself
I burst if I don´t share
I have a fear that now
If I fall
Nobody will be running to catch me
But what even happens
If I fall?
I’ll just wake up
With a beating heart but still fine
In dreams you do