i am crazy
hey courtney? remember me? the lost little girl who lives inside of you, the one who makes everything so hard?
i am still real, and no matter what you do, i'm going to be here forever with you. your only real friend just so happens to be your own worst enemy- you.
you still remember the songs he forgets were yours, the ones you gave to him.
there is ownership in everything. diseasediseasedisease, in touch, in laughter, in song.
you still need to always be touching. you are still afraid of monday, of being alone together. you cannot stand being around anybody's parents. you cannot stand being around yourself. it's still hard to wake up in the morning, it's still damn near impossible. that is something you will never overcome. shut up. shut up.
she's still fifteen, she's still infatuated, she's still half alive.
seventeen. pretending. convinced enough to call it "real life".
this time. after so many this times.
no matter how happy you are in the morning, when you're tired enough, too tired to try, you will remember how it felt when there was rain on the windows, when you walked in the snow, when he touched you only because he knew you wanted it, when you shook every time you saw him, when you couldn't feel your fingers and you couldn't breathe when you walked the halls in school...when everything was all black, or red on white, red lines on creamy canvases, as you said, as you glorified your lovely lie of a life...
you are jealous, you are scared, you are insecure, you are immature, you are weak, you are too tired to think straight...
and the reason for this?
pms, probably. but that's what i always say.
i am still real, and no matter what you do, i'm going to be here forever with you. your only real friend just so happens to be your own worst enemy- you.
you still remember the songs he forgets were yours, the ones you gave to him.
there is ownership in everything. diseasediseasedisease, in touch, in laughter, in song.
you still need to always be touching. you are still afraid of monday, of being alone together. you cannot stand being around anybody's parents. you cannot stand being around yourself. it's still hard to wake up in the morning, it's still damn near impossible. that is something you will never overcome. shut up. shut up.
she's still fifteen, she's still infatuated, she's still half alive.
seventeen. pretending. convinced enough to call it "real life".
this time. after so many this times.
no matter how happy you are in the morning, when you're tired enough, too tired to try, you will remember how it felt when there was rain on the windows, when you walked in the snow, when he touched you only because he knew you wanted it, when you shook every time you saw him, when you couldn't feel your fingers and you couldn't breathe when you walked the halls in school...when everything was all black, or red on white, red lines on creamy canvases, as you said, as you glorified your lovely lie of a life...
you are jealous, you are scared, you are insecure, you are immature, you are weak, you are too tired to think straight...
and the reason for this?
pms, probably. but that's what i always say.