an escape pod for one (wait, theres two of us?)

I'm cutting myself off, but can't help but think i have no control.
like a fisherman and the fish,
I've been strung up, framed then thrown in and left behind.
thirty seconds of fame, thirty seconds of feeling alive,
only to be left swimming sideways with the sharks.
"theres plenty more fish in the sea."
pity this only means less attention for me.
my hearts in her handbag
the kind where it takes hours to find a thing.
"oh look i found my keys!"
nearly three months later, she still can't find me.
shake hands with strangers.
goes against everything i was ever told.
but it's either 'fold' or break my own rules.
i have to take second chances.
because I've run out of first impressions.

I've gone from a dreamer to a realist,
i think i lost something through the change.