Story Of Our Lives

I've wanted to believe in you. I believed in you so much that I stopped seeing what you really felt; and I still believe in you, even though I've only been hurting myself more by doing this. I believe that you'll love me for who I am, and I still think that maybe you'll love who I end up loving someday. I believe that you'll still talk to me after I move out and I believe that I'll still want to come home. I believe in starry-nighted heart-to-hearts and hugs that make everything better like they used to. I believe in being tucked in at night and hearing you tell me you love me.

Most of all, I believe in believing those words.

I've wished for you to change every night, but I've wished that I could change more. I wish that I could make you proud in all the ways that matter to you, and I wish I didn't try so hard. I wish that every time I decided not to do something, I hadn't, and I wish I didn't feel so guilty about trying to be confident. I wish that I could come home over-the-top-happy without knowing I'll crash the second I walk in. I wish you realized that I've been trying too hard to be who you wanted and that's why you don't believe the real me now.

Most of all, I wish I could start over.

I'm trying to learn that my wishes are never going to happen and that I'm believing in the wrong things and that I'm hurting myself again and again just to feel something other than the hurt that you're inflicting on me. I guess that I really don't want to blame you-- I'll blame me forever and that hurts much less than knowing that you're just as imperfect as everybody else. Or that you don't love me the way you should, and that I'm never going to be the person that  you wanted when I was born.

Most of all, I am trying to apologize for what I didn't do.