Eventually someone is going to break your heart. Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you're falling to the floor crying thinking "I am falling to the floor crying" but there's an element of the ridiculous to it - you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you're on the floor and you realize you didn't paint it very well and when you're having sex with your next lover on this very floor they will also notice that you didn't paint it very well and they will think less of you for it. And then you think "Is that sentence too long?" And then you have to hold the contradictions of sobbing uncontrollably and wondering about grammar in your head at the same time.

You're the people who just want me to notice.
You're the people I try so hard to ignore.
You're the coward who demands me to save him.

You will smother under covers, stapled to the mattress.

When last the movement had gone round for the second time
( A classic. )

You are pooped and demoralized.

Why wouldn't you be?
Of course it's exhausting having to reason all the time in a universe which wasn't meant to be reasonable.