I can't stop thinking about it.
The way you graze me as you not so casually walk by.
The awkward tension in the room
So thick you'd need a chainsaw to even leave a dent.
And I can't help from feeling inadequate
And nothing's worse than giving your all
and still falling just short of being worthy
time and time again.
So I sit here and think:
There are plenty of fish in the sea
There's more to life than this small town,
the world's a big place.
And I immerse myself in keeping my mind busy
but I end up thinking about
how I don't want to think about it,
and all progress is lost.
Then I break all the ties
and burn all the bridges I built,
Thinking
You're not a  fish.
You're everything.
And the world isn't as big of a place
as we make it out to be.