It’s Not You

It’s not you. No really, it’s not you. It’s not you; it’s me. If you knew about me you wouldn’t blame yourself. You wouldn’t expect so little for me. You’d find someone better: lesser. You’d be sad for me knowing that I’ll never be happy, that there will always be something more than you. If you knew me you wouldn’t try. You wouldn’t have to. You would know that it’s not you. It’s not you.

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