I’m listening to a song right now that I have listened to for the past six years. I’ve always felt it, one way or another, but tonight, I felt as though it literally just happened. Would you like to hear the story of the song? I will tell it anyway.
“I came to you in the morning. I ironed your shirts, and I made you breakfast. I played you the ukelele till you slept. I sang to you.
I put you on my shoulders, and I brushed your hair because you told me to do so. I then brushed my hair, and now my hair smells like yours. Then I took you home and waited until you turned your bedroom lights on, and then I left.
This is not a normal feeling I am used to. It’s getting fast and more serious, and I never asked for it. I never asked for your smell to be stuck in my head hours after you leave, hours after I stop smelling anything at all.
You need to make this better for me and you. Could you possibly disappear, go away? Even though it is not your fault but I’m scared to get used to you. I hear you like my voice and that we may become closer friends, but my friends would push my car down the road even if it’s a 2 passed million after midnight. Do you want to do this?
It’s getting louder. I can see you in a crowd, I can hear your voice very clearly. I should’ve turned my back on you when I met you; I should’ve not done this, I didn’t know I would love you.
I’m scared of commitment.
I’m scared of commitment.
I’m scared of commitment.
I’m scared of commitment.”
This is a bit of what I understood of the song. A bit of what I am listening to right now.