In The Palms Of Our Hands

Not The Doctor
2009-10-21, 1:57 p.m.

Dear Diary,

Just want to share this song as I think it sums up ALL of my relationships to date:

Not The Doctor
by Alanis Morrisette

I dont want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I dont want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I dont want to be the bandage if the wound is not mine

Lend me some fresh air

I dont want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I dont want to be to be your babysitter
Youre a very big boy now
I dont want to be you mother
I didnt carry you in my womb for nine months

Show me the back door

(chorus)
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at half past six
Well I already know that youd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I'm not the doctor

I don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
I don't want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge
On your face at midnight

Hey what are you hungry for

I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and Im afraid of heights
I dont want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window

(repeat chorus)

I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart
And it's wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for

(repeat chorus)

love
anempath

last - next

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Going Out! - 2009-10-23
Poems - 2009-10-21