Am I your friend?
Do you really care about me the way I care about you?
We use the terms best friends of is that just me?
But is that truly what I am to you?
Do I think more of you than you think of me?
When my usefulness is gone, will you also leave?
Why do these questions haunt me so?
I worry about the future, like an endless sea of doubt.
Doubting myself and others, will I ever be happy.