I can't recognize myself lately. I'm someone I used to know. I think you took me with you, and I was hoping you could just leave me somewhere else because I've been waiting for myself, waiting for all of the pieces to come home.
It's difficult to tell who really our friends are. Too often we became a victim of false pretense.
Remember me? I "used to be" your best friend. I was too nice and too much and still not enough at the same time.