Every day seems the same to me. I sit around and think about how alone I feel, then I wind up rather enjoying loneliness because it's the comfort of being sad. Sometimes it feels so right, and sometimes I'd like to be around no one for ten straight years. But I know this feeling can't bring me places, and I know I'm losing lots of ground, but to keep up means to get up. And why does it have to be the world keeps on changing while I just stay the same? I feel like being down doesn't mean enough to anyone anymore, and I guess the world has made emotion obsolete. And I don't think I feel the same 'cause after all, who says what happy really means?



Met a girl at seventeen
Thought she meant the world to me,
So I gave her everything,
She turned out to be a cheat
Said she'd been thinking for a long time
And she found somebody new
I've been thinking that this whole time


I wanted to how the same thing could be so ugly 
and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant