This is always, it's always the case.
Just when something's about to happen, I simply won't let it.
My heart won't open anymore.
It's like I'm afraid to get hurt, even for the first time.
I'm being difficult, stubborn; not that I like it.

My head's screaming, it hates me.
My heart's fragile, it feels cold.
Maybe it's made up of glass after all.
All these unnecessary things I think of, they're not important.
But yet, they slow me down.

Maybe I'm not ready, not yet.
But everyone around me seems happy.
They make it seem easy.
I hate myself for believing that fairytales can come true.