I’m not okay. I’m barely alive.
At this rate, I won’t make it past 25.
I can’t fucking sleep, and I can’t calm down.
Too scared to pull the trigger, and too afraid to drown.
I’m sick of being known as just a fucking outcast.
I have no control over my future or the past.
I make sick jokes, because they’re funny as hell,
But that’s mostly to distract myself from living in Hell.
I don’t want attention — that’s not why this is here.
I just wanna quit living in constant fear.
I feel like I’m stuck in a dark fucking trance.
I want to be happy, but I’m afraid to take a chance.
I’m just smart enough to know that I’m dumb,
And I barely feel enough to be sure that I’m numb.
When good things do happen, I’m okay for a while,
But never happy enough to show a genuine smile.
Maybe it’s just a weird trip, and I’ll sober up soon?
Sunshine doesn’t help, and I’m fucking sick of the moon.
I wouldn’t really mind if it all just disappeared.
These last few years have just been REALLY fucking weird.