I used to be included, back when the group was small.
I used to play the game, back when we weren't yet as grown.

But now, I stopped arriving at the events you planned.
Bailing at last second, the brain yells it's a mistake.

The years flew by, anxiety holding me back.
Back home where I heard of the fun they had.
The lingo they developed, experiences they shared.
Inside jokes and common friends I've never even met.

It's a certain type of loneliness, the friend on the outside.
A certain type of pain when you're the only one to blame.

Stopped to be invited, what did you expect? When you never show up to the insane plans they make.

I'm so tired of being on the outside, being all alone.
Surrounded by my friends and convinced that they don't like me.
So tired of looking through the blinds, only catching glimpses of their lives.

One might say, the solution is simple.
Just get into the new-old group, bland right back inside.
But how will I accomplish it without the proper tools?
I ask you now, how do I get into the room?

Another says I communicate my problem.
Please consider that I'm a human disaster.
Don't like to talk of feelings, don't want to talk of pain.

It's so much easier to repress it all again.

Our love was like a rose
At first it was lovingly cared for and vibrant
But over time we both began to neglect it
It began to wilt
Our hatred caused it to wilt
And once it started to die there was no going back
It could not be renewed
Just like our love
Though the rose was still vibrant in color
And still smelled sweet
You could see how fragile it had became
As if at any moment it would break and fall apart
Like any kind of neglect would cause the petals to crumble
But although this rose-our love was nearly dead
We continued on as if everything was okay
Because we was so used to seeing the beauty
We refused to agonize the ugliness it now possessed