conceitedness is the first step to solitude.

it's hard to pass as alive,
when you constantly feel like you're suffocating.
when your stomach is in so many knots
that you start to believe that your body is actually turning against you.

i know it can't be true,
that when i tried to follow you,
you took 10 steps in the other direction
to lead me off your trail.

it makes me feel like i've failed,
all those times i convinced you
that one day we'd follow straight lines
until we collided for eternity.
but maybe it's like those things we learned about in algebra
(even though you know i never pay attention)
that come so close to touching
but never feel the warm embrace
of the knowledge that they are on a path
that will lead them away to infinity.

i want that.

but maybe you don't.
maybe it's all in my head
and the knots in my stomach
were false alarms.
all those times you were there for me...
i can't convince myself you were lying;
but i can't convince myself that you weren't.

i can't handle thinking about anyone other than myself right now,
and maybe that's a problem.
but all i know is that you've always been the one to solve them.
and it's hard to let go
when you've been trying to teach me
to dance on this ice for so long;
but when i finally free myself from your comforting grasp...

all i feel is the freezing floor hit my knees.

i want to lay here
and see if you'll come back.

maybe.

if only i weren't me.