I have a bad habit of getting close to people quickly
So few people bother to notice or talk to me
Perhaps I crave the feeling of being real through their validation
It's unhealthy, but you try going through life made of cellophane like a ghost- even the psychics don't see me
I have a bad habit of allowing others to become important and irreplaceable too quickly
So when they leave it feels like nothing will ever be the same
It's unhealthy, but when your only friends are the ones you create in daydreams- you learn to latch on to the real ones
Real...
I suppose nothing is real
If walking away is so easy
Then there never was a realness to it
Maybe if you were just another creation of my imagination
I wouldn't feel so bad
I wouldn't go to sleep hungry and wake up feeling full
Maybe I wouldn't have to wipe my tears and pretend they never fell
Or maybe then you'd never walk away, because in my mind is the only place anyone ever truly stays