You sent some chick a copy of a romantic song you wrote about her.
I don't know her or if you guys ever dated/screwed/were romantic.
There are 8 less condoms in your cabinet.
But you swear you've been faithful.
Love letters from and photos of your ex are all over your floor.
You were cleaning out old boxes. Okay, but why is this stuff still everywhere?
You wrote to someone in reminiscense of a time you were high.
I don't know if this was last year or last month. But you say you're off pot.
You're asleep when we have plans, and you refuse to get out of bed.
I don't care that you say you're tired. You do this to me all the time.
You've said yourself that you do nothing to deserve me.
And I said you should do something about that. Why don't you?
So why the fuck do you not understand why I am unhappy?!
I don't know who you are, why you are this way, and if you're ever truthful.