And the problem is, as has always been true,
The problem is you.
By that I mean me, that\'s just my internal narrative
They fight a lot and shout a lot
Like to bitchy sorority sister
That\'s not a good analogy
We don\'t have sororities in England.
We just get pissed on our own;
In our own beds alone.
We fight our friends because at the end of the day;
They’re bitches too.
And why wasn\'t I invited?
Do I have a right to be angry?
Do I have a right to be upset and offended?
They\'ve known each other longer, I know.
And I\'m a latecomer to the group I know.
But why?
We\'ve been out, it\'s not like we\'re strangers.
So it must just mean that I\'m the problem.
I\'m annoying I know,
I wake up in trouble too much I know.
And I know I over-share my shit.
So I must be the problem;
And the fault is not on you if I\'m the problem.
And if I\'m the problem, I hate who I am.
I despise my body, my flesh, my mind.
But I\'m trying not to do that anymore
So the blames on you; but not really.