Wake up early to black and white reruns

Unearthing a fatal flaw at this period seems to be slightly premature even for me. For I, in raw naivete assumed i'd remain in utmost composure upon the slight hint of a fiasco.

I was wrong.

This all comes across as a novelty, this unfamiliar twinge of agony, but it consumes slowly,and gradually in a callous complacency. And leaves my internal ambiance fluctuating inconsistently, where some nights i'd find myself tossing and turning restlessly with cry-worthy ballads soundtracking the night. And other days i'd force a simper only to reaffirm my spate of qualms. Its exhausting,loving you is exhausting. But i succumb to exhaustion, upon declarations of saccharine laced verses, and reciprocate half heartedly. I succumb to an overused line and the heart warming chuckles from the drivers seat. In that moment the background grows obscure and my oblivion to everything else amplifies,its all i see and its all i know. At the end of the day, i'd only find my face buried in my tresses, putting that sick playlist on replay and questioning every inch of my inadequacy, which part didnt add up for you? Why wasnt it enough? What else isnt enough? Why am i not enough?