Sometimes, you just don't know. You don't know how i'm feeling. You don't know i'm mad at you. You don't know i'm disappointed in you. You don't know how much i want to tell you straight in the face that you're the source of problem making me sad but as much as i want to, i can't being myself to tell you cause it'll definitely hurt you.

Sometimes, i feel it's my fault(i really think it is), that i'm too picky but everything just doesn't make sense. It's like, we are more yet sometimes we are nothing. What exactly are we?