The Season

It was a long week, barely worth the memory
And then another, dragging uneventfully
And I don’t know how
Many more had passed before
I realized I’ve been here all to frequently

It’s the season, I’m repeating
Hopeless lines I’ve practiced one too many times
Losing sight, deluded into thinking that
Self-aware means self-loathing

We had a long fight, barely saying anything
Another retread of boring insecurities
And when I don’t speak
You can’t know what I mean
We run in silence, building distance in between

It’s the season, I’m repeating
Hopeless lines I’ve practiced one too many times
Losing sight, deluded into thinking that
Self-aware means self-loathing

So I can justify the all-too-frequent tendency
Of criticizing people happier than me
Self-aware means self-loathing

You know, the cold wrecks my ability
To function half-appropriately
While you sit waiting hopefully
For a life you think could be happy
Will I push on through til the weather turns?
Will you lose your cool when I never learn?
Will it all work out? Will I shed my doubts?
Will I be something you could live without?