Listen, I know it’s nothing. That’s why I don’t ever bring it up. But everytime you mention that, this monster in me comes out. I know there’s nothing going on. I forget every lovely word that ever been said. I don’t want to admit this flaw. That I turn into some jealous monster. I don’t ever want to let you see it. What kind of psycho freak feels this way. I’m not supposed to be insecure. For all you know, I have it all together. You see me at my best. This is maybe my worst. When I doubt myself like this. When I let something small pull me under. And this thing destroys me at either end. I either suffer in silence like this. Be so secretive and let you guess what’s wrong with me when I said I’d never do that to you. When I said I was this straight forward sort of person. I tell you everything. I hate not telling you. I hate not letting you know. I under-sighted my weaknesses. Or I can admit it to you. I can admit that I’m disgustingly selfish and jealous. That I’m only human, I’m not perfect, I’m not super. I want to be though. For you, I really want to stay that way.