Mr. Brightside

I hate being jealous. Hate as in loath. Loath as in despise. Despise as in....well, you get my point. But when you work hard for something, you do expect at least a small amount of success. Correct? But when you see someone you care about do nothing, and get everything you've been striving for, a good throttling is in order, me thinks. Or not. Still, I begin to be jealous, of my best friend. I'm not supposed to be like that. I'm supposed to be supportive and caring. Not a cynic and realist. But while I used to be a romantic, that part of me is dead. And I wish I wasn't the one who killed it. Because now, I might not be so jealous.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea,

Swimming through sick lullabies,

Choking on your alibi.

But it's just the price I pay,

Destiny is calling me.

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr Brightside.