the artist--

i put you on top.
you wanna stay below.
always below.
why below?
you like sailing below everyone else.

i don't understand you.
sometimes.
most of the time you don't understand me too.
but what the heck?
we're okay...

man.
we're always okay...


but what you don't see.
is that i hear you silently.

i hear your every word.

what hurts is that you don't trust.
trust that i hear...
that i feel.
that i understand.

stop double-checking.


layers and layers of your self-involved standards.


yes. okay. i know. i understand.
people need their own time to think, to move, to speak their minds.

sensitivity?
i've blown all of my feelings in a balloon
ready to pop.

you speak like you know everything.
you listen like you know everything.
why.
why is that?

is it because you do know everything?

don't turn this around.
please don't turn this around.
don't even accept this.
cos it ain't acceptable.
don't swallow this like i know you would.
just hear it.

these are my thoughts.
my thoughts of you.

at least in this silence.
i don't hear you trying to defend yourself.
for in your defense my words
these words
would timidly rearrange themselves
in hope of your approval.

lets just say i'm tired of trying to please you
trying to look for my worth.

you might think you feel small around me,
well guess what?
you're wrong.
it's the other way around.

you.
yeah.
you hurt me.
i must have hurt you too.

but hurt.
hurting.
damn overrated.

this fucking feeling is overrated.
in a year or so, we'll hardly know--
we'll hardly know...

just...
just trust me, okay?

it ain't about owning you...
it ain't nothin' about it...
jesus christ.
wake the hell up.

you are who you are.
why do you think i chose you?