in an ideal world, you'd knock on my door and wait for my permission to enter.

in an ideal world, you'd never take my diary and read my entries, or steal my phone and read my texts.

in an ideal world, i would come up to you with trusted secrets.

but in the real world, doors and walls don't exist.

in the real world, there's never a good hiding place for my diary, no password strong enough to keep you out.

in the real world, you urge me to tell you anything i haven't told you before.

you should've taught me to be an open book.

instead you're trying to pry me open with your two bare hands.

you should've taught me to be honest and be trustworthy.

instead I've become a very good liar with convincing stories.

and since you have no respect for me,

i've lost all respect, and love, for you.