In a nutshell

I'm full of questions and unethical answers
I'm not capable of the simplest things
I read you every day, and can't make out the words
You're a big question mark;
A big ball of confusion
You're blurry to me, but I don't wear glasses
I don't know what's going to come out of my mouth next;
What would you do if I just dropped to the ground screaming?
Would you stand there and ask me what's wrong?
Would you ask me if I was okay?
Or would you just say, "But I have to help someone else. I have to help her feel okay."
You don't realize what you have.
I'm seconds away from calling all of these years shit.
I've called them shit already, but what are they to you?
I want you to whisper in my ear, or write me a letter
But of course, I'm just a blur in the patch of fog.
Don't comment on this, I don't need your two cents.