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kiyuso
☕ Partially active. Just blogging down my messy thoughts for the record and future references. Also a story writer, typically concerning my gays. I don't particularly have any interests. It's more like, if something piques my interests, I become infatuated or obsessed.
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When you're young, you think you'll be untouchable by the hands of cancer, but the disease can claim anyone at anytime. Sometimes, a disease does not choose you, it comes to you regardless of the time or circumstances. It was the fall semester of my second year in college and I was slowly growing frantic about the lumps appearing across my chest by the day. Every night I'd fall asleep and wake up with twice the amount of lumps. Some weren't painful, but they were an angry red and so firm that they could be seen over my clothes. It took me several weeks before I got them looked at, hoping that they would just go away on their own. As life would have it, they didn't and for fear that it would worsen I finally sought help. This was the start of my journey. I saw many doctors. Delayed help for myself. Then I was misdiagnosed five times before my actual diagnosis. After that, I spent a year in denial before I actually sought treatment. The first doctor merely took a look at my chest, felt the lumps, and slapped my diagnosis on the table and promptly left the exam room for her next appointment: back and chest acne. The second doctor took a look at my medical history and went through the same physical examination as the first doctor, except my lumps at this point were receding: lymph nodes responding to stress. The third doctor implicated that my one stubborn lump that wouldn't go away after months was a sign of breast cancer. The fourth and fifth doctor confirmed the diagnosis, but after a lab work suggested by the fifth doctor's colleague, but results came back negative for breast cancer. My lymph nodes were reacting to my immune system fighting to something else not breast cancer, but bone cancer. After the epic failure of my misdiagnosis', that doctor's colleague officially took over my case. He's been my oncologist ever since and for the foreseeable future. I was barely 20 when my medical records became permanently tainted by the words cancer. The doctors felt it was too young to even consider such a diagnosis with the type of cancer I had. Even I felt like it was false news to my ears. My doctor urged me to seek treatment immediately with how unstable the cancer was for someone not an adolescent. Instead of heeding his warning though, I thought if I ignored the problem long enough it would go away. I found excuses to my follow-up appointments with schoolwork, extracurricular activities and work. I threw myself into my classes, but when I found my grades slipping because I couldn't focus or lacked motivation when exams came around, I turned all my focus into my work at the editing office. It was approaching a year and I hadn't even informed my family of my diagnosis. I didn't want to scare them, and I especially didn't want to let my mother down. All my life I had problems with my health, and I felt like this would've been the cherry on top to every health complication I've ever had. For a year, I rolled around with the idea of cancer in my head. Playing out my prognosis and death like my friend before me who died of brain cancer without telling a single soul. In my pensive moments, I felt it a fitting way to go even though I raged and cried at his funeral about why he did such a thing. Now I was living in his last moments and thoughts before he carried it out like a hypocrite. However, bottling so much for so long can only have catastrophic results. By the start of my fifth semester, I was literally bone weary and ready to lay down and never wake up. Baron, my boss at the editing office and rock during my journey, noticed my diminishing effervescence. It didn't take much probing on his part to get me to spill everything, a simple question and genuine look of concern made me into a gibbering mess of tears, snot, and mush. I was tired of pretending everything was ok. My grades had been failing, there was no motivation for me to muster to even attend my courses, I just moved into a house with a bunch of former floormates that felt more uncomfortable than the dorms, and there was no peace from my mind even if I closed my eyes. I was constantly plagued with this growing, gnawing feeling that felt anywhere from falling off a cliff to drowning in the pitch dark ocean to mourning so much at a funeral you can't breath or get up on your own two legs (the only experiences I have ever encountered that can equate to how I felt during that time). Baron immediately took charge of my life at that point. He scheduled every single appointment himself and drove me to them to make sure I wouldn't even consider running away ever again, did whatever means it took to list himself as my emergency contact and caretaker, moved me out of the house I was living with into a better situation (that evidently was just as worse by the end of the next semester), and made sure I would wake up every day feeling better about myself and the situation. Baron might've done some things that I felt invaded my rights and privacy, but at that point in my life I felt like that was what I needed to get me out of rock bottom. I wasn't willing to get myself out of there and he must've feared for the worst for me when he truly saw the light of things. Even before all this, Baron and I shared a relationship that equates to father-daughter, and it must've grown tremendously during this time. He must've feared and mourned losing a daughter that may have not been his own, but the closest thing to it. When I think back to this time, how hard he worked to get me back to who I was before, I'm consumed with so much gratitude, respect, and regret for this man. The lengths that he went through to make sure I could look back and forwards on this proudly touches my heart so painfully. It's not everyday someone is going to care that much, and I question it every day how I deserved his salvation. Ewing Sarcoma. I could score the world wide web and ask every oncologist about this cancer and I still wouldn't be well informed about my own disease. There is no definite understanding of a cancer, and I learned this first and foremost after my experience with it. Cancer is constantly growing and changing, just like you and I. Most doctors fear cancer because it is a disease that cannot be truly defined and confined. They hate how its a disease that will never leave their patients body and mind. And they most definitely hate delivering the news about how their patients cancer was beyond their estimation, fumbling with their words how to explain to us citizens that sometimes something is out of the realm of definite and possibility because it cannot be categorized, no matter how hard we may try. My first treatment dealt with a localization of the cancer. The treatment plan for it was a simple chemotherapy regimen that didn't interfere too much with my life. I refused radiation therapy with it because I still wanted to continue my life as a college student and work leisurely (since Baron didn't allow me too work overtime at all). My doctor understandably agreed with my request. However, not even a year later, I relapsed and the cancer came back. Immediately, the radiation therapy was added onto my treatment plan. I was in constant pain during this time. I spent long hours in a humming machine that made my skin pulse and throb like something was trying to get out of my body, my skin. The needles and catheters used left scars that made me insecure about my body, mutilating the delicate skin of the radiation site. Sleep was hard because I couldn't lay on my side without pain shooting throughout my body. Even sharing a bed with someone was difficult to bare, fearing a kick or mere brush near my hip would send me into a gasping, shivery mess. It was also the start of something I should've noticed before it spiraled me into the bloody mess Baron and Martha later found me in though. I found an addiction to the pain I felt sometimes. At times I'd deliberately roll over onto my side that was tender so I could gasp intensely in pain, try to feel something that I felt I was lacking most days. It was like I was alive during those short moments of high wheezing, dry heaving, and delirious laughter. I don't honestly know where my mind was at that time, but it must've felt like I could return to consciousness when I felt intense pain. I vaguely remember being in the clear for a mere week before my cancer returned once again with a vengeance. I do, however, remember my doctor being upset, not at me, but the cancer and his role as my oncologist. He felt as if he failed me in my treatment and future. The two of us weren't personally close by any means, but he knew my desire to finish college timely and the treatments have always been fashioned around that goal. We both knew it wasn't going to be easy, but we also came to a mutual understanding about how important school was to me and my health to him. However, his suggestion for a surgery would not be able to oblige that. I would be out of school for a week at least and months at most. I couldn't afford to miss that much time. I already had to withdrew at the end of the semester so as to not risk my failing grades affecting my GPA anymore than the past year has; inevitably I was behind track. I spent almost a year deciding and debating whether or not to get the surgery, living in a limbo as my cancer ate at me. All the while, I still followed a strict treatment plan to prevent the cancer from spreading further. The doctors feared if I didn't receive the surgery soon the cancer would spread to vital parts of my body. They feared my lungs the most and even stressed that the longer I delay I could risk infertility with how close the site of my tumor was in conjunction with my reproductive organs. Stubborn as I was, I had hopes I could finish this last year of my undergraduate and then commit to the surgery. However, I was sorely wrong. The dazed state the treatment plans left me in could not allow me to focus on school, let alone my exams. I was failing my classes spectacularly even though I was attending every single one without a pinch of absence. If I kept going at this rate, I would be behind by two years. Everybody around me reasoned for me to hurry and get the surgery, that taking a leap year wasn't going to hurt anyone or anything. But the only thoughts that kept running through my head during their suggestions was: how would I explain this to my mom? She would become suspicious if I suddenly took a year off. I hadn't even told my family yet about my cancer. I kept pushing it off like I did everything else in the past. I was too scared to face up to my cancer and family at the same time. I didn't want to deal with her disappointment, frustration, and the fallout we would most likely have because of it. After all, I went to a college somewhat far away so I could escape her. I wanted to live independently and freely, and maybe I feared that if I told her that freedom would be revoked and I'd have to come back and live with her. In the end, I took the surgery because I started obsessing over the term 'normal'. I wanted to have a normal life where I could do well in my classes like I did before this all started. A normal life where I could have a boyfriend and be a proper girlfriend that consisted of physical contact and not just social gratification. A normal life where I wasn't a stranger to myself more often than not. A normal life where I could actually hold an appetite and eat whatever I want without fear of being able to keep it down or not. A normal life where I don't dread going to bed, and especially waking up. At this point, normal was whatever my life wasn't currently at that point in my life. So with that firm normalcy ringing in my headed before the surgery and after it, I finally agreed to the hip replacement surgery. I'd like to note that deciding to go forth with the surgery was also not an option for a poor college student such as myself, even if I worked as an editor and made a lucrative paycheck since I didn't even any health insurance! There was an unlucky incident where I left the company briefly to take a break, but because of a lawsuit during my absence the company reformed their policies. So once I returned to the company, I was not eligible to qualify for their health benefits until a year of commitment to the company. Baron fought tooth and nail with admin, the board and CEO for my sake, grieving that my commitment to the company for all these years should be more than enough to allow me to qualify for health insurance. The company held firmly to their new policies though and turned the both of us away. We were both devastated. Perhaps because they knew my situation and weren't willing to pay for my surgery, or perhaps they were truly turning over a new leaf after that lawsuit. Either way I'll never know. All I know is that this was a huge road block in my journey. Surgery related to cancer is expensive. Replacement surgeries themselves are extremely costly. I would be paying hundreds of thousands out of pocket for this surgery if I got it that year, but time was not kind and if I waited I would've live for long. Many of my friends and coworkers heard of my dilemma and they organized FundMe's for my surgery, and even though it didn't collect much in comparison to the actual cost of the surgery, the sentiment touches my heart deeply. I'd like to take this moment to thank every one and anyone who spared any thought or donation towards my time of need, and especially to Baron who paid for the rest of the surgery in its entirety. I wouldn't be here this day without his support and generosity. I owe him my life and so much more. I don't know what I did to deserve his sincerity and kindness. After the surgery, I surprised my doctors and everyone with who quickly I recovered and returned to my every day activities. A little over a week I was back in my classes and working with much vigor as if I wasn't a cancer patient for years, as if I was normal. And I certainly tried to feel normal after my hip replacement. Like a placebo effect too, I started feeling normal. I was getting better grades. My mind's clarity was clearer than if had been in years. I could initiate intimacy with my boyfriend at that time without fear of my mind, body, and pain taking flight. I wouldn't have to take anymore bottles of pills, stuffed into the back of my underwear drawer or socks in fear of people judging me. I wouldn't be haunted by this diseases anymore. I could finally be at peace, if only a bit. But let me tell you, your battle with cancer is not with the disease itself, but yourself. Along the way, cancer battered my ego and body, and I've had to reform the both of them so many times. I was never the same person each time I built myself up. Along the way I'm certain I've lost many parts of myself, and I'm just now reacquainting myself with some of them. I suffered from severe forms of anxiety, insomnia, and depression. I found excuses in them for everything like I did in the past, as if I didn't learn the first time. I lived cowardly and excused some of the things I did as a part of my cancer and mental illness when truthfully it was just me living willfully. I don't condone some of my behaviors in the past, especially if they've ever brought harm onto anyone, but I also want to let other people know that that doesn't excuse you to take advantage of them. The most important thing is to educate yourself on the diseases and situations that surround you every day so you can articulate more accurately on how to approach something or someone. Sometimes you'll have to be careful and thoughtful around some, other times you'll have to be brash and straightforward, other times you'll just have to remove yourself from the situation if you feel like you can't do anything without bringing harm. I'm talking about all the people who have been fragile around me as if I was going to break, and I couldn't stand that about them because I was itching to be normal. I'm talking about all the instances I put myself in that position where I elicited that from people because I was bearing my vulnerability fragility with hopes of being comforted. I'm talking about all those times Baron barged into my life, dictating everything from my schedule down to what I ate for dinner. I'm talking about how without that I would've been an even more slobbery mess without that. I'm talking about the time when my best friend and now ex-boyfriend left because they couldn't understand me or be what they thought I needed. I'm talking about how that ruined me because they neither communicated to the me, who was just finally moving on in her journey, their proper feelings and thoughts, leaving me to piece them all myself how I will. All I'm saying is that we shouldn't take a disease at its face value. Just like how cancer is ever growing and changing like I am, and you are, the people around you are also. So we should all look to try our best in doing our best in that situation so we don't live our life in regrets. Because I know I do, but I try my best now and I hope that's what will count from here on out. When I get really sentimental, I listen to this song on repeat. Most of the time it makes me sad, other times it turns my sadness into anger, sometimes I'll mellow out and feel regretful for the next coming days, or occasionally I'll turn bitter and inconsolable until I fall asleep. But even though I feel all these conflicting feelings, it's a wonderful song that came to me during a difficult part of my life. I don't know what the artist truly intended for this song, but it resonates with me as a breakup song—and aren't those just that hardest? Just because you want someone to stay doesn't necessarily mean it's for the better. But we also don't know if leaving is the better option either, do we? We just have to live the decisions we make, hoping it will set us free from whatever turmoil we were suffering from. This song simply reminds me of what I couldn't say, what I wanted to be said, and because I didn't say it everything fell apart. I still don't think it would've made a difference if I said it either way. But I'll never know either way, since it's all done and over now. Lyrics: In the night, you said it was the last time And now you're gone, but I'm still here And I feel, torn around the edges Incomplete, with a slight fear And the truth will set us free, unchain my heart And I know after an ending comes a start But I just wanted you to stay, stay Stay here for a little while, little while But all you do is let me down Yeah, all you do is let me down And I just wanted you to stay, stay Stay here for a little while, little while But all you do is let me down Yeah, all you do is let me down And I try, to look a little further, all I see Are the dark parts, when you ran so far away Never really had the chance to say All the little things I thought would make You stay with me And the truth will set us free, unchain my heart And I know after an ending comes a start But I just wanted you to stay, stay Stay here for a little while, little while But all you do is let me down Yeah, all you do is let me down And I just wanted you to stay, stay Stay here for a little while, little while But all you do is let me down Yeah, all you do is let me down [The Notebook] Would you just stay with me? Stay with you? What for? Look at as we're already fighting! Well, that's what we do. We fight. So what? So, it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work this every day, but I wanna do that cause I want you. I want all of you. Forever. You and me. Every day. Can you do something for me? Please? But I just wanted you to stay, stay Stay here for a little while, little while But all you do is let me down Yeah, all you do is let me down And I just wanted you to stay, stay Stay here for a little while, little while But all you do is let me down Yeah, all you do is let me down
Feeling at "home" was never a feeling I could quite understand. We moved a lot when I was younger, and so I learned to disconnect myself from the "homes" we lived in for barely a year. It felt like a void that needed to be filled but couldn't be filled when I was older. So I sought to find a place that could fill that emptiness. I left my family, the closest thing I had to a home, to a town miles away. I had hopes that if I ran away far enough, but not too far, I could find what I was looking for. Even I myself don't know what I was looking for back then. Just something to fill the void inside that I seemed to be missing.
It was hard trying to feel at ease in a new place with hostilities every corner. Some of the people I met were rude, unfriendly, and immature. It felt like a place I wouldn't be able to connect with. But like everything, time and patience is fortitude. It wasn't until halfway through I connected with someone, and it wove like a web from there.
I started to understand that maybe "home" doesn't have to be a place, but with the right people. It was the right people that made the home, a home. Maybe for some people it might be the other way around, but I was certainly looking for the wrong things.
Even my hometown never left such a lasting effect on me. I felt like I could never leave this new home I finally made with my own two hands. Although there were certainly many bad memories that almost ruined what I had, it was never enough to chase me off. I held my ground and made the best of the worst.
However, one summer and the next January was enough to send it all crumbling.
When you invite someone into your life, to share your world and your hopes, it's with trust that nothing can be broken. Sometimes it all breaks without you realizing though. It took just days for someone I thought I could share my home with to ruin all that.
I let them into my personal space that I felt the safest in, and was kicked out of that very physical home. I let them into the sphere of friends I had, and almost all of them turned their backs on me. I let them into my deepest darkest thoughts, and was disgraced because of it. I let them into my heart, and trampled to the ground it was without any regards.
Now, I live once again hollow and empty, trying to find another home I can feel at ease in. All the friends that used to make my home the proper home it was are no longer around or have uneasy feelings about me, just as I them. Even leaving the entire states seems more appealing than starting anew some other place within.
What pains me the most is that I still look forward to returning to the place I had called home for six years. In me there is still this hope that it could still be what it used to be, what I had imagined it to be in the future. And isn't that the most painful?
I had dreams and hopes that I'd live in a quaint little house there with green shrubberies and painted red doors so my friends and visitors wouldn't get lost looking for me. I'd have a dog or two, maybe even a cat, and we'd all be a happy family if I didn't have significant other. My siblings could come see me or even live with me if they didn't have a solid foundation themselves. Weekends would be spent outside enjoying the trails and mountains and wildlife, and weekdays I would turn in with my hobbies. And if I occasionally had some company in the form of best friends and other furry fluffy companions, I wouldn't complain.
Every time I step into that town though, the anxiety and turmoil turning inside are too great to even stomach thoughts of remaining in that place for more than a day. The looks thrown my way by some of my old friends send me scurrying away faster than a rabbit to their burrow. And I hate that I give those people the power over my dreams and hopes. But what can I do?
I simply wish for a place to lay my weary heart and mind to rest now, even if it's not the home I've been craving all these years. I'm done carving a place out for me, only to be carved back out. My soul is weary and I just want some peace and simplicity.
Our story started one summer when I was running from something I'm still running from now, and you, you were there because it was the place you felt you could call home. Ultimately, we found our home in each other, carved out and without realizing it. You loved me with every nuance that scared everyone off. You swept me off my feet when most people knocked me off it. You held me close in those days when time was forgiving and free. And even when everything changed, I knew you still loved me even with everything that tried to pull you down. You still loved me even at your darkest; you probably loved me the deepest at that point in your life. Even though I trusted you with my heart, my soul, my body—yet you betrayed that—I couldn't hate you anymore than I could hate myself. In that dark consumption, carnal and cruel, we were broken and beautiful. Bared before like never before, I could see even more your sunken eyes that beheld everything I needed to know, feel your tension of four years that war does to someone, smell the rancidity of what lets you sleep at night, and touch your skin that was cold just like you've become without our realizing. And during that intimacy, I cried not because of the tragedy, but because of what we became. We used to lie on the plush sofa we handpicked together; my head pillowed on your lap, your hand in my hair as we enjoyed each other's company as well as a good book. We used to drive each other up a wall cooking together, and laughing as well at the absurdity of our moods in the kitchen, mellowing out once we seated ourselves on the dining table and enjoying the meal we fought over not too long ago. We used to take turns driving your monster of a jeep, sometimes up ridiculous terrain and down the scariest slopes of mountains and trails. We used to play on the playgrounds like we were young and kids, except kids certainly don't kiss with a sort of desperation that we had for one another. We used to attend each other's classes, just to be near one another, snickering like freshmen at the absurdity of what we were doing. We used to go dancing on Sundays, so you could twirl me, dip me, lift me, and kiss me silly without needing an excuse, lost as we were in the music and exhilaration. We used to take long walks after every meal, with you piggybacking me half the time because of my cramps, but you never complained once. We used to wake up in bed together, until your side was colder than the air outside—you barely came home those days. We used to wear each other's clothes for the fun of it, then I had to worm my way through every one of your sweaters cause you were no longer around, chasing your lingering musk to fill the void in my heart. We used to enjoy grocery runs together, bickering and spending hours there, until it became just me rushing in and out to buy one person portions or meals. We used to brush each other's hands on purpose just to feel that cold metal that made me yours, as you were mine too, until you stopped wearing your band, hidden in the bedside drawer it was like a secret you wanted me to be sometimes. We used to mutter endless endearments to one another, just to fill the silence and the empty spaces in our hearts, until we realized those words could no longer mend us or our failing relationship. That didn't mean we still didn't love each other though. We were both going through a difficult time and somehow we couldn't reach out to one another during that time. I'm sure you missed me as much as I did, and I'm sure you loved me just as much as I did you, if not more or as much as everyone else knew, no doubt. Just because all the bad happened, that ruined us, it didn't ruin some of our happiest moments, peaceful memories. Nothing could tarnish that, because the feelings during those particular times were the truest and loveliest—they weren't empty, lies. I hope you know that I love you even now, that I wish there was something more than what we only had. And I know you felt the same; you even bought our rings already and always carried them in your cargo vest, in the pocket closest to your heart. You ring has a dent in it, from the barrage of gunshots that felled you, and as I stroke that part, you have no idea how much my heart fills and empties at the same time. It is a bereft feeling I wish I didn't ever have to know. And you wished the same for me, that's why you didn't want them in my possession, huh? But in the end, they ended up in the number one place you wished them not to be. So please don't fret, for they are a heavy burden, but a beautiful notion of what we promised one another, what you tried your hardest to make true. I'm glad they came to me, that your feelings found a way to me even in the aftermath. I couldn't ask for anymore, except for the impossible—for you to be here with me still. But don't worry. I don't dwell on the things that couldn't be, should've been. Like you always told me, to live in the now, and that I am trying to do. After your memorial service, we went to go watch your favorite anti-hero movie, your best man and I. We bought three tickets as if you were with us. We kept the popcorn in the middle seat too, because you were always a popcorn-hogger. We laughed extra hard, extra loud to make up for your boisterousness, and it was so bad we brought ourselves to tears. It really was that funny, I promise, and if we wept extra tears for something else, that'll be a secret between your best man and me. Afterwards, we had the best ramen to finish the day, and to welcome you home. Ramen was always like coming home to you. A good broth was like a comfort to the soul, you said. And when we drained our bowls, we finally understood what you meant. With much love from your former fiance and your forever best man, we miss you and love you. Rest in peace and we will carry on for you, for us.
'Killing Me’ was written in tribute to Luke’s Grandmother and the life she has lived since his Grandfather passed away 10 years ago. As Luke says, “I’m often moved thinking about her living without him. She misses him and talks about him everyday. Her broken heart breaks mine and this song was written about that.”
If the lyrics don't already move you, the music must. The repertoire of the piano's melody, the emotional intensity felt by the crescendos and sudden diminuendos, the complete gentleness in this song that doesn't shroud the potential of it is all too beautiful.
I played this song for my ex-fiance's memorial service, and partially for the artist's reasons for creating this song, but also for the truth it holds for me as well. Even though he's no longer around, no longer alive, and it's been years. I still miss him more than I could tell anyone, and I can't really tell anyone because I've broken my own heart too many times telling people about it that I refuse to say anymore on the matter.
I think when I tell people about my ex-fiance, they only see the crimes against me, and don't listen to the other important things about him. He was selfless in the sacrifices he made, self-righteous in every action, indulgent in possibly anything and everything, loving in what life had for him, and completely and utterly hopeful in the impossible. When he believed that he was doing the right thing, even with all the impossibilities, he was a force to reckon with and a beauty to behold. However, there were times when he was suddenly bare and vulnerable, that it broken my heart just seeing that side of him. Sometimes the strongest individuals are the ones that fall the furthest.
I only went to see you once—and that was when you were finally brought home—and I'm so sorry I haven't returned once except now. I'm sorry that I didn't place significance in the things you did for me. And of all the things, I'm really regretful I threw our engagement ring away like cheap plastic just because someone couldn't find peace with our relationship. I should've been stronger and unforgiving of anyone that thought twice of us. You never hesitated when it came to us, especially when your family tossed you out for putting that ring on me. So I'm so sorry and guilty I couldn't do the same. And even though I have no right, I'm sorry if any of your last thoughts had to be of me. You were probably worried what place I would be after your death, what place I already was after your last visit. And I won't lie, it wasn't a very happy place, but it certainly is now. You've done us all proud, serving for our country in the hardest of times. And you've certainly done me proud, loving me and doing all that you did for me. I miss you dearly.
Lyrics:
Sweet heart, would you wake up today? I promise, you would recognize my face I wanna show you, how I've grown in this place In this place, I'm not alone and I know I'll be okay But it's always harder, when the winter comes to stay When I can't help remember, all the words I'd never say [Chorus] And it's killing me, that you're not here with me I'm living happily, but I'm feeling guilty Oh you won't believe, the wonders I can see This world is changing me, but I'll love you faithfully [Verse 2] Everything is taller these days Or maybe I feel smaller and time rushes away There's so much I could show you Oh, the great grandchildren have been laughing like we did when we were young Oh, I've been laughing like we did when we were young [Chorus] But it's killing me, that you're not here with me I'm living happily, but I'm feeling guilty Oh you won't believe, the wonders I can see This world is changing me, but I I'll love you faithfully Oh, it's killing me, that you're not here with me I'm living happily, but I'm feeling guilty [Outro] Oh you won't believe, the wonders I can see This world is changing me, but I I'll love you faithfully Yeah, it's killing me, that you're not here with me I'm living happily, but I'm feeling guilty Oh you won't believe, the wonders I can see This world is changing me, but I'll love you faithfully |