I am an open book that comes with a set of arms and a crowbar, so I can pry open any closed book hearts. I thought that with you I made progress, and we were seeing things the same. I thought that you could process when I was feeling any pain
And I thought you'd care, but maybe I was stuck in high school. Maybe it meant more to me that you'd listen to me speak than it did I that I was listening to you. I didn't think it was that way, but now when everyone else is gone, I can't even find you
And now I don't even know what friendship is anymore
Now I am a torn up book and anyone can see the pages on the floor, pieces of me, but hardly anyone bothers to try to read the whole story not like I thought you wanted to. I guess I was just making things up that weren't true
But now you're saying that you cared and that I should've cared more. You didn't realize you weren't there, and all I could find was you. But you didn't see me and now you're wanting to. And now I've let you down. How things turn around. My pages are burning
And now I don't even know what friendship is anymore
Maybe in six months, it was too much; and when you got home, you realized that I was too much. You had enough of my trying to get you to be open with me all the time, late at night, and when I showed you the first song I wrote about you. You seemed so happy you almost cried. Whatever happened to those eyes? In just three months, you put aside any memories, and it felt like I died and that you had to forget so you wouldn't cry. But I still cry. I still cry all the time
People have never been so worried about me than they are now
And now I don't even know what friendship is anymore