You once asked me how I tolerate you.

Babe, how do you tolerate me?

After I dragged you into

all of my problems and

how I ask you for help 24/7,

how are you not sick of me?

You don't deserve to carry the weight of the world, yet

I keep heaping my issues on you.

It's not fair to you, but, for some reason,

you're always willing to listen and help.

I don't understand, but

I appreciate it.

Though, sometimes, I just wish

I could keep everything to myself because

none of my problems

are easy to solve and

they just cause you pain.

(Though you won't admit it.)

I wish I didn't feel like

such a burden,

that I could rewind time and

just hold onto my problems, never bring them up,

so I'd never make you sad.

I can't help feeling like a handful sometimes, but

while I may not know how you tolerate me,

I know that, somehow,

you still love me and

that's all that really matters.