This is not a love song. this is sunday bloody sunday.
that was not a whining session, that was a firefight and i kept firing.
I snapped at you. i got angry at you. when you left i barely even whispered 'bye'. as you walked away i stared into the endless abyss of the window of the train, which soon turned into a reflection of an angry boy staring into his own angry eyes. i glared at any body around me who dared to even glance at me and took out my music. i listened to all the songs that i had that would keep the adrenaline flowing, keep the anger fuelled. songs that you sort of like, songs that were too hard or angry for you, songs that reminded me of you.

you can't help who you like, i should know. even when i think i've finally stopped feeling that way for you, you still can make me hurt inside because you like him. you've kept this going for a while and i think it's too long to keep letting it slide. you have to come out, confront, accuse, get annoyed. it's what i would do. of course, look where i am. you are in fact a far more likeable person than i will ever be. the advice i give to you will never properly benefit you if you followed it. the advice i give you is about me wanting to protect you, to save you from things i have encountered, to save you from things i have seen others do, that i have seen myself do, and to save you from things that remind me of my own downfalls. you're a sister, a friend, a lover, an trainee and a part of me.

you scare me because of your mistakes and your approach. it was the same approach that my first love had towards life, towards problems. perhaps that is also part of why i feel all the ways i do about you, who knows.

but i do know that i felt bad inside today and so i had a go at you. now i feel terrible.

you tear me up inside in ways i cannot explain and do not wish to understand.

you are my little complication, and i love you.