They so know me so well because they say these things about me, and it's so loud, it just has to be the truth, but what's real is that here I don't belong, and what's true, is that I'm barely hanging on clinging to a fantasy of what I only hope could be a new place to belong, how could I be so wrong, I used to look into the mirror just to see myself clearer I used to think, I knew me, but the distorted figure they paint me to be must be the real me, but what's real is that here I don't belong, and what's true is that I'm tired of hanging on clinging to a fantasy of how much better things could be if only I belonged how could I be so wrong, it all starts to blend together and things just never get better, and I try not to cry, but it feels like a lie, but what's real is that here I don't belong, and what's true is that the real me is already gone. What's left of me, clings to a fantasy and is too scared to admit they're only dreams, why'd I ever think I could be long thought i'd feel better not taking the easy way out, but i've never been more wrong.
