Work Text:
I don’t know why I crave your approval like I do.
You’re nothing special.
But when you let other kids go play with the olders
It makes me fear.
Fear that you won’t like me as much.
Fear that when I do something wrong, you’ll move me down a position.
Fear that when I’m not as good, you won’t notice me.
So why does that make me hope that you’ll look my way?
I shouldn’t feel this way
But everytime I do something wrong, I hope you’ll look at me the same.
It makes me want to stick out so you’ll so much as glance in my direction.
I would let you do anything to me if it would let me be put in the same category as the special kids.
Is this wrong?
That I wait and wait for you to praise me?
That I play louder for you to hear me?
That I want you to rely on me?
That all I want you to say is a simple ‘good job’?
Maybe I’m not good enough for that.
Maybe I never will be.
