Slowly coming to the realization that I am truly alone A sad but sterile truth Being myself is not enough When in life did I become so empty? When in life did I become so dense? They say our happiness is measured through relationships, through love Well then, if that's the truth, I've got thirty years and nothing to show for it I'm sick of being shit at love, a flaky friend, a neglectful daughter, an alien All I've wanted was just to love and be loved But I'm coming to find that it's one of my flaws I've been called a narcissist more than once The world only exists for me I truly hate being me