I miss the days when I was flat.
When I was simple and lacked complexity,
When my friends knew all of my secrets,
And I had nothing to hide.
When the greatest worry was a playground romance,
When I could clear my mind at a disco dance,
But now I have become solid.
With layers and layers of pain.
And I can’t hand over the tools to peel
Without excepting I’m not ok.
And I can’t express what I’m feeling,
Because I know that it’s not familiar.

So I’ll look for others,
Who share my tears and cries.
In desperation I seek a friend to whom I do not have to lie.
But I’m left with those who are broken.
Who take and demand my remaining light,
Who pull on the rope that hangs thinner by the day, in jealousy and spite.
So if I should not find someone broken and cannot live with the complete
Am I doomed to an existence of alone and emotional defeat ?