The truth is, is that I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that one day in twenty years you’ll wake up and you’ll be tired of me.
That you won't be excited to see me anymore.
I'm afraid of giving you my all because if I do and you decide to walk away you’ll take all that I have.
That's why I hang on, and every time you tell me that you will never leave.
There's a voice in my head that whispers “He's going to leave you eventually."
So I smile and nod, and try to let myself believe that what you say is true.
But this endless doubt that runs through my head makes it impossible.