Your heart, no, your mind ... no, both.

How do you know where it ends, and when the beginning starts? Is it an ongoing process of a lifetime of confusion, or will things ever make sense? I am called a pessimism. You call me cynical, he says I am too negative, she says I need to stop looking at the glass half empty. I say, I simply don't care. Well, that was the way it was supposed to be, anyway. I don't care, I really don't. I've spent more time caring about you and you and him and her and this and that than I've spent on useful things. It's not a bad thing, it's not. It's rather healthy, this new outlook I'm experimenting with. But with everything, there's the bad that comes hand in hand with the good, and by the time I realize what the bad is, I am past the point of no return. So what now? I wish life were clear cut and simple, so much so that we'd all make the right decisions, all the time. I know I shouldn't, but I do, anyway. And at the times I know I should, why do I not? I thought I knew what I wanted, I thought I knew what was right. But I guess I really didn't know anything at all. Nothing about me, nothing about you, and nothing about you, either. It's surprising what you can find out when the heart begins to speak.

The fireworks lit up the sky and you saw me standing there, looking at you with sorrow-filled eyes and my heart full of regret. You turned your gaze back to the sky for a moment in time and I ran, I ran as far as I could. You looked back to where I once stood, your face illuminated by the now dying pieces of work in the sky. I was gone, I was long gone. I stopped in a clearing a way off, and as we both looked up into the dark, we whispered, I wish you knew.