A Kid From Pallet

Just think.

I know.

I know it hurt.

I know it might not have been what you wanted to see.

I know you filled your head with thoughts of what we could be.

I know you thought I was so close you could almost smell the cologne.

I know it's hard to understand me.

I know I won't be able to make you see how it felt.

Someone just like the former, interested in me.

Different, new and inviting--while you were still far away.

Mere miles still feeling like whole states.

Worlds apart.

I know you'll see me like the others--boys looking for attention, just to f**k you over.

But I'm not. 

      I'm still me. 

      I'm the same boy you've known for (X) years, now.

Yet changed, even so.

I know I'm impatient, an opportunist at my worst.

I know I'm selfish.

I know I didn't call.

You weren't the only one.

I don't know if I was always like this: acting before thinking of how it would affect others.

I don't know if we'll ever be the same.

I know I hate who I was, 

  but I didn't know you loved him.

Drowning.

We both know I'm not proud of what I did to you.

But know I'm happy here.

It seems that every time I'm happy, someone else has to hurt.

Assigned the blame. 

Maybe I'm just jaded, or trying to cope with

what you've said, the words I've read,

when I say I don't think I deserve this.

I know it hurt, 

but I can't control my heart the same way you can't control your fingertips.

You still cross my mind from time to time.

And I still care.

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This is the root of our nature, we hate ourselves and we don’t know why…

  This is the root of our nature, we numb ourselves until we die.

-400 Blows, “The Root of Our Nature”