There's a likely chance, that if you're a girl I've met I've imagined a life with you I know that probably sounds obsessive But that's just what I do I am desperate, like a praying atheist I need love I need affection and I hate myself for this Get over yourself I say under my breath When I get annoyed by the thoughts in my head I don't deserve to say I'm sad I don't know what sadness is I'm nothing more than complaints from a dumb spoilt kid I crave love I crave attention And I hate myself for this I'm embarrassed by my depression When I put things in perspective