Getting Older

I'm getting older
I think I'm aging well
I wish someone had told me, I'd be doing this by myself
There's reasons that I'm thankful
There's a lot I'm grateful for
But it's different when a stranger's always waiting at your door
Which is ironic
'Cause the strangers seem to want me more than anyone before (Anyone before)
Too bad, they're usually deranged

Last week, I realized I crave pity, when I retell a story
I make everything sound worse
Can't shake the feeling that I'm just bad at healing
And maybe that's the reason every sentence sounds rehearsed
Which is ironic
Because when I wasn't honest, I was still being ignored
Now we're estranged

Things I once enjoyed
Just keep me employed now
Things I'm longing for, someday, I'll be bored of
It's so weird
That we care so much, until we don't