I yearn to be loved, Yet deep down, I believe no one could love me — And maybe I don’t even love myself. I yearn for someone to believe in me, But I don’t even believe in myself. I yearn for a friendship that lasts, Yet I distance myself, Believing it’s too good to be true. I yearn for so many good things in my life, But it has reached a point where I stopped hoping. I’ve asked myself who I should blame, And as always, I find someone to blame — just so I can feel better. But deep down, I know the undeniable truth: It’s all me. Because my mind is a garden of melancholy — I watered it with sleepless nights, And it bloomed thorns of impossible, negative thoughts.