what am I to you

sometimes i wonder what i still have left to prove. that i'm better off, that i've moved onto greener pastures, that i'm too cool, that i'm so many things i'm not but i wish i could be for pride's sake. in trying to hide who i really am and what i really want to say and all things else that matter, i guess it becomes such that you just can't see me with my best foot forward. and this becomes a vicious cycle of self-loathing all over again. rinse, dry, repeat.

they all like me, so why don't you