I guess I’m not allowed to have bad days, because being cheerful and bubbly all the time is how I’m suppose to be. I’m not allowed to have bad days.
I guess being tired is not something I’m allowed to be either. I’m 36. I’m young, vibrant, and healthy. I have my whole life to go out there to live. Who has time to rest? Being tired is not something I’m allowed to be.
I guess I’m not allowed to complain either. I should just be prim and proper and keep my mouth closed. Because saying how I feel just isn’t as important to you as your own feelings. I’m not allowed to complain.
I guess I’m not allowed to love. I am to be an independent, self reliant individual. Yet, stay in my lane at all times. Allowing you and only you to give yourself away emotionally to someone else. I’m not even allowed to love.
I guess I’m not allowed to dream. I’m suppose to be inspired, motivated, driven, and successful. Yet, setting goals and achieving them is impossible when they keep getting shot down by your constant need to be in control. I’m not allowed to dream.
I guess I’m not allowed to say goodbye. I’m suppose to be supportive, attentive, and reliable financially and emotionally no matter how bad it gets. Because I am such horrible person that no one would ever be able to love me like you do. I’m not allowed to say goodbye.