I remember when my decisions were mine,

And that the people I trusted were people who trusted me.

I used to hope that they would stick by me through the thick and the thin,

But I guess it got too thick to stand in, or too thin to stand on.

I remember those lesser days,

Where all we had to worry about was colouring in the lines,
And measuring our height with a yellow ruler.

But now all we colour is our makeup painted faces,

And measure how much hate we have compared to he, or she, or them.

It's all apart of growing up.

Growing up I thought would be a great time of life,

I thought it would go as smooth as silk until I hit that stage where,

I was responsible for my own actions,

And knew what house was my own and not my mothers.

I thought nothing else would be as hectic as that.

I was wrong.

Now I have to defend my decisions,

As if my decisions are never my own.

My decisions have to please you.

Don't they?

They have to go with how your life is so that,

You have someone to hang onto who is exactly like you;

Lonely, scared, and an attention seeking brat.

Yeah,

I said I'd wait until I was sure,

But what if I'm sure now?

What?

You can be sure at this moment, and I can't?

You get that computer life that will work out so well,

But I get the real one that is bound to end is tragedy and 'I told you so”s?

No.

If you want to play those kind of games,

Play them with people who will let you win.

Have your fun with them.

Don't play sorry with me.

I don't feel sorry for you.

My decisions are mine.

Your complaining is yours.