why is it impossible to tell you how i feel without you getting mad over it?

why can't i say the things i want to you?

why must i bottle it all up just for you?

why is it impossible for us to talk nicely about problems?

why can't you understand me?

why can't you think of how i feel?

why do you always put me at fault?

why am i always getting blamed by you?

why can't you do anything for me?

why why why?

maybe it's best i give up. lest things get fucked again. too tired to do anything anymore.

it's best i lead my life alone. the silence that blows past me with the figment of a memory seeming to pass...