Count your blessings and count your scars,
count falling in love in the backseat of your first car.
Count the stitches in your heart and remember
that by and large, these are the things
that make you who you are.
Midsummer night’s don’t last forever
and before you know it’ll be a long December.
and whether you’re wishing on stars,
or watching red lights on passing cars,
Thinking about the letters you never wrote,
knowing it was last time you’d hold her close,
breaking promises to a fucking ghost,
and forgetting the values you once held close.
Right now all I hold is a tall cold glass,
as I propose a toast before my first class
to myself and those I miss the most
all to wash down another dose
Nostalgia can be tough to swallow
if regret is the first feeling to follow.
If time feels like it just needs to pass,
remember it’s not a fucking biology class.
When I went to count the stitches in my heart,
they were mostly healed, I couldn’t find where they are.
So why would I wallow and why would I boast?
Why would I waste years I may value the most?
It’s time to remember that when I’m at my worst
life is like a ballad, and pain is one single verse.
operator: hello 911, whats your emergency?
me: my wifi isnt working