[Joel, here’s the song played on a piano]
I live in a house of silence. I walk around perpetually with a grumpy attitude so that you are used to it and you wouldn’t know when I’m melancholic. I wish to share my problems with you, but I cannot.
I wished you had supported me through those years of hell for me, instead of affirming my inferiority. Ever since, I no longer know how to trust people with things that truly matter to me. I create fantasies as morphin to the emptiness inside. Do you really know what matters to me as an individual? Or am I just a burden to you?
I hate to see other families laughing over dinner. Why can’t we have a conversation that doesn’t end up in a lecture about life. Why can’t we try something new as family, instead of insisting on the old ways, giving the pretext that money is an issue.
I’ve tried too hard in the past. I’ve already given up. Because I know, you will never listen to my words; even if I were uttering them while standing on the ledge of a building ready to jump to my quietus.
You know… financial issues was never the issue. I just wanted to know and hear that you loved me and cared about my existence. I just wanted to bond.
When we grow up, we should stop believing in pipe dreams… I no longer believe…