I’ll admit.
I’m scared, alright?
That’s the truth.
Yes, I know,
it’s wrong of me—
yes, yes,
it’s very wrong of me
to go around sugar-coating it.
That’s the real truth—
I swear.
Alright, alright—
I’ll say it out loud.
It’s not true that
I’m saving you
from a toxic relationship
if you and I were to—
you know—
get together.
The truth is,
I’m afraid of commitments.
I’m afraid that I,
with all the glamorous façade
I galavantly show off,
won’t be enough for you.
Heck, I’m even afraid
I’d make you cry—
I’d just disappoint you,
or whatever.
I don’t want you to be sad, alright?
And this—
this person you see right now,
isn’t worthy of you.
Yes, I know,
you’re the one to decide,
but call me insecure—
I’m not really the man
you think I am.
I’m not even
the person I thought I was.
This—
this everything you see,
isn’t real.
Me being kind—
false.
Me being a good person—
totally not true.
And that’s why I—
I’m afraid.
Sorry, but I…
I can’t make you happy.
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