I want to want you.
I want to want to.
I want to feel the way you do,
I just can't.
If it's not destroying,
I don't feel like trying.
I just feel like crying,
Because I can.
I want to want to,
I just don't know how to.
I don't know what I feel for you,
Other than—
Disappointment.
There’s a particular kind of man who mistakes avoidance for power. Who believes that disappearing absolves him of explanation. That silence rewrites the narrative in his favour.
It doesn’t. It just reveals him.
You were not complicated. Not conflicted. Not deep. You were simply unwilling — and too weak to say so out loud. So you chose the quiet exit, hoping it would look like mystery instead of what it really was: a lack of substance.
You overestimated your impact.
What you left behind wasn’t devastation. It was clarity. The kind that strips illusion clean away and leaves something almost clinical in its place. No anger. No longing. Just the undeniable recognition that I misjudged you.
You weren’t rare. You were convenient, briefly interesting, and ultimately forgettable.
And the silence you offered so freely?
It’s been returned. Permanently.
I am She—
long awaited, unseen,
the one who drifts through your edges.
You feel me before you know me.
I give nothing,
yet I linger,
my attention brushing against your mind
like fire you cannot touch.
I take only what is offered,
I claim only what is earned.
Step closer… if you dare,
But bring yourself, fully,
or fade quietly into nothing.
Remember this:
I am She,
I am waiting,
and you will never see me again.
I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
I don't want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon
And I don't want to be your other half, I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face
At midnight, hey
What are you hungry for?
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights
I don't want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart
And it's wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor
Alanis Morissette