You turn me inside out,

You make me think in circles

Until I can't get enough of you,

Your horribly wonderful, awesomely terrible self,

And worst of all,

You make me write about you,

You make me take the time to sit,

To think,

About what?

You

Thoughts wasted again,

I could be thinking of so many other things,

Other than you,

Your breathtakingly hideous, painfully pleasurable self,

You make me twist and turn,

You make me so confused and make everything so clear,

And you don't care,

You don't know,

You brush it off with a smile and a laugh,

Your sick twisted apathy,

You,

Your unbelievably real, purely adulterated self.

And you as well,

You think I don't care,

You think it's all alright,

Well sometimes it's not,

Sometimes it's hard,

It's hard to be the one,

The one who's always there,

The one who's the rock.

So I'm not perfect like you,

Is that my fault?

Why must I suffer for your perfection?

And why must you mean so much to me nonetheless,

How can you be so wonderful and so horrible to me,

Both at the same time?

How can you make everything all wrong and all right,

All with one simple word?

Your flawlessness makes me cringe as I breathe a sigh of relief.

And me,

How can I speak so of you all,

When I'm the one who's all wrong,

I'm the one who's lost,

I'm the one who's just here

With you, and you?

And I'm so happy and so sad,

So torn and so together,

So all about me,

And so all about you and you