Not that much

Maybe I'm just emotional,
or afraid of myself.
Am I ignoring my shadow,
or hiding from the light?
Am I being selfish,
or just dodging the headache?
But I'm not blind.
No way — I'm not that much.
I'm just trying to be practical:
to live, to feel, to march,
not to slip,
not to make the old mistakes again.

Everything you say,
every move you make,
each sign you let slip,
each scene you set —
I'm studying it, learning it,
close enough to catch your breath.
I'm not numb.
No way — I'm not that much.
I'm just trying to watch,
to gaze you inside-out,
not to decide in a rush
and regret it at leisure.

Maybe I'm just too weak —
or am I being too strong?
Pretending not to understand,
maybe I'm the one unknown.
Or maybe I'm overwhelmed.
But I'm not destructive,
and I'm no fool.
No way — I'm not that much.
I'm just trying to understand
you, and the way you think,
not to grow overconfident,
and not to overlook.