I'm disposable
Its simple to you
I don't mean as much to you
As you do to me
And that's the age old problem.

I over analyze things
Thinking I'm crazy
And everybody tells me I am.

But somehow
with you
I'm always right.

And it isn't right,
The way you push me out
And it isn't okay.

Kissing you,
Was a mistake.

And I'm over it
Complaining about things I can't change
Yes
My social anxiety is annoying
You don't have to tell me.

You have to pretend to be bad,
To make up for your lack of personality.

And you still try to talk to me,
(Eventually)

Normally.