A woman, a victim of abuse takes another chance on love only to be hurt again. |
When I wasn't in love, was I happier? When I wasn't in love, no one could hurt me I didn't cry so often I didn't try so hard Didn't have to worry about pleasing someone else, disappointing them, losing them, wanting them, wanting to be wanted. There was no pain, no rejection, no insecurities, fear and useless anticipation. When I wasn't in love, I wasn't concerned about who he's with, where's he's been, does he miss me, does he care, where do I stand, why doesn't he call? Being alone and being lonely are two different things really, Had gotten used to being alone, accepted it as the inevitable Now, when I'm alone, I think about him, need to see him, talk with him, be with him, and because I'm not, I'm lonely, It's a sad, miserable feeling, I was better off alone. When I wasn't in love, time moved quickly, hours flew by, weekends were shorter. Now the time drags on, endless hours wishing he were here, feeling I'm the last insignificant thing on his "to do" list, a distraction not to be too concerned with. When I wasn't in love, things were so much less complicated, I feel being in love is just so overrated, In all honesty, I think I hate it. Mostly because there's never been anything in it for me, Always getting the raw end of the deal, Always the last to know he wasn't ever for real. When I wasn't in love, at least I wasn't a fool, not the object of anyone's affection, Not always looking into someone else's eyes, trying to find my reflection. I don't do this thing well, It's truly hard as hell, And only time will tell, What becomes of me and my broken heart, When someday we part, And I go back to the beginning, back to the start, When I wasn't in love. |