Narcissistic, in Love

by Noise Pollution

I tend to start a lot of the songs I write with the word “I.” Saying that probably exposes an underlying level of narcissism that I don’t want to admit I have. But I do. I am obsessed with myself, at least as much as everyone is obsessed with their own selves. I try to hide it all under kindness and empathy, but in reality, I constantly think about myself, my own situation, who I am, where I’m going, I, I, I, me, me, me, me, meeeeeee. God, it’s fucking pathetic, really. I need to get over myself.

Switching gears.

I miss being in love. I don’t miss my ex. Ugh. Gross. Don’t even suggest that. And don’t get all high and mighty on me saying I should have respect for the relationship I was in, because I fucking shouldn’t. After getting burned so fucking bad, I think I’m allowed a little bit of resentment. I don’t have to be perfect, and disliking my exes is one of my vices. I’m allowed that much.

I get it, you don’t like it when your exes talk shit on you, and it’s not something you respect. Fine. Don’t respect that part of me. I can’t really do things any other way. I would lose my fucking mind if I had to speak kindly of Gnat. I can’t. I just can’t. Don’t ask me to.

Tangent aside, I miss the feelings I had for her, even if I don’t miss her at all. It was nice, changing my “I”s to “we”s for a while. It was nice, having a warm body in my bed, or a hand to grip tightly when I was feeling uncomfortable at a party. It was nice, having someone I had to impress, in a way.

I don’t know. I’m feeling a lot of heartache right now. That’s why I keep writing about this shit. Sorry if it’s bugging anyone.