I read your horoscope everyday, hoping it'll reveal something about you.
I listen to your Spotify recents on repeat.
I'm searching for an explanation, for something that finally makes sense.
All I want is to understand you, to find reasoning behind your behaviors.
But, truth be told, the only explanation is that there is none.
You just are the way that you are.
I wanted to believe I could change you, part of me always will,
Though I know people can't be changed.
I romanticized an image of you that was far from reality.
And every time you'd text me, I'd be disappointed as hell.
You could never truly reach my standards.
You couldn't possibly, for who could reach the clouds.
I've been told I live in my thoughts, that I let my fantasies consume me.
I've been told to let you go.
Maybe what I've been told is true, but I have no fantasies without you.
Every time I try to leave, I'm always drawn back in.
I used to tell people we were soulmates.
I don't quite know if I believe in that notion anymore, but the notion of being alone is far worse.
All the horoscopes in the world couldn't tell me who you are,
Nor could all the songs.
So here I am, accepting that I don't know you, I don't really know you at all.