I’m afraid of what people think of me, you always want to look good in their eyes.
I don’t like people in my space, you enjoy being alone but I do want friends, I like to be a popular kid on the block.
I’m afraid of large crowds, they make you uncomfortable especially if I know no one.
I want to be loved, you want to be free, I want to be genuinely happy.
I’m afraid people are not actually my friends and that they are out to get what they can from you.
You obsessively overthink, a slight skin contact with a stranger sprawls a long line is self conscious battles. I try to make meaning of the slightest thing.
I want to be the best at everything, be the richest, the nicest and best possible version of you.
I hate needy people. Naturally, you find it overbearing .
I hate people that complain excessively as well.
I hate having to complain like this, you are just tired in too many ways to be true.
I am afraid to love, I don’t want my heart torn for the a hundredth time, you’d rather watch from a distance, hoping that I fall out of it.
You are troubled to confide in anyone, I don’t want them to hold it over me. People who know too much hold me siege. You don’t have any dirty secrets, I just don’t like my business being know, more especially in spite.
You are afraid of me, so why do you scare me from the other side of the mirror.