What could've been there, we don't seem to know.
Deep inside, I wanted to be all that your soul ever wanted.
But I know,
I knew even before,
that when the time comes that I need to know the truth,
it would be the most painful one.
That day came like a bitter storm on a sunny summer day.
Slowly,
it has torn
even
the thinnest
piece
of faith
I had
for myself.
It was nothing for a goner like me to taste such bittersweet kiss of reality.
It was all natural, so typical,
very fantastical, extremely tragical.
Surely, it wasn't me all along.
It wasn't me alone.
It was never me.
I know, there are things I thought I knew and understood well:
things I thought were real,
things I knew were just so fine.
I gave up on the idea of nothingness despite the vague feel.
I set it aside, knowing that there might have been, just hidden.
But, of course, everything was plain wrong;
it wasn't surprising, though!
Guess I just got the price for having hoped too much on things that seemed real.
Well, they seemed to be the greatest stuff I'd ever felt,
after a long while.
At least, it was.
It really was until I had to realize it wasn't.
Accept. Regret. Forget.
I tried to release the tension in my head.
I tried [so hard] to cover those tears up, until I'm all alone.
I tried to shake it off,
stroll around the city,
see some happy faces,
read a boring notebook,
or just hang in there and look for some pain again.
I tried, I swear, I tried until I finally grew tired.
Because in everything I had to do, I just have to think there was you,
who had been there all along to make me realize such dismal truth,
that once in my life, I met someone, thought he was the one,
but broke it all in just a while with his cold song.
And once again, I knew, I felt
I was falling in love
With someone,
*Alone.