I have bottomed out and my future doesn't fit into my schedule.
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All booked up on depression and self-loathing.
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Buried deep in sleep from passing out, no time to plan ahead.
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Someone please tell me, why do i think this way?
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Someone please tell me that this isn't the end of everything.
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A chemical imbalance? No. The smell of my own vomit lost in my last tears.
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No more kissing clocks or throwing coins into wishing wells to try and fix the way I fucked myself.
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When it's finally here, it's never enough and when it's finally gone, it's never coming back.
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Somehow I fooled myself into believing that this would work out, that I wouldn't end up hurt.
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I Hate Almost Every Person I Come In Contact With
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| Curl Up And Die |
