Sometimes I just want someone to just tell me they fucked up and that they’re genuinely sorry.
Sometimes, I just want someone to dedicate “The Scientist” to me: “come up to meet you and tell you I’m sorry, you don’t know how lovely you are. I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart.”
Sometimes I really just want to grab a complete stranger and kiss them for no reason, but run away before they can ever catch me.
Sometimes I really doubt love is actually real or is it a mere fantasy? I think I knew what it was, but now refuse to entertain the idea.
Sometimes, I just want to disappear into the nothingness of early morning’s fog–or dreary summer’s mist.
Sometimes, I want to say too much but I still worry of how my words and ability to be so open about my feelings and emotions must annoy people.
Sometimes, I feel like I can fit, but also be completely out of place at the same time.