I  almost went to a movie with a man twice my age,
but then I told him I'm sort of involved with someone.
I guess you can say it's complicated.

I burnt my hand on a light bulb the other day,
I cried and cried, but I didn't do anything to try and help the pain,
I relished it, I marveled in it, as if it was the sugar in my tea.
It felt better than anything I've felt these past few months,
because it was better than nothing.
I know that's disgusting, and I know if you were there to see it you'd be sick, but you aren't here, if you were then it wouldn't be like this.

I've been watching the news, trying not to care,
and spilling secrets, not caring enough to clean them up.

I want you to tell me what your pain feels like,
and your anger,
and your sadness.
I need you to make me feel like I'm not alone.