In the end, I'm left standing here with the ring of your voice in my head,
reverberating in my heart.
My hands over my ears.
I'm saving myself from the sound of repetition.
From what I've heard you and every other person always ever say to me.
The disappointment of the platonic feelings.
The energy and excitement put into absolutely nothing,
A one way magic mirror ride through hell.
All I see is the repeating me.
The constant reminder I am not who you,
Who everyone, wishes I should be.
The person people wish I could be.
Because I am just so close to the whole package,
Just a few steps short of the perfection you dream of.
I look so damn good on paper, great over the phone.
But I fail when it comes to the interview of a lifetime.
You hear perfection and you expect to see it,
but it's not me and I am so sorry.
I am so sorry,
but I will not spend my nights awake.
I will stop thinking about the ways of which I have failed,
and I will remember the moments of aspiration.
The moments where I