Pain is like a drug

Once you feel it in your body and mind,
You can't get enough.

It's not good, but to you it's enough.

Enough to feel pleasure and validation
Enough to feel some sort of love
Enough to accept over time.

And over time it begins to morph into
what you call your life.

This rejected validation from those I think I love
Is making me question why I'm even alive.

And who am I alive for?
If I'm living for me then why am I not happy?

Nothing makes sense anymore
But when did it

I think I'm insane, but isn't everyone?

If you're not insane, that what value do you have?

It's utter torture dealing with insanity,
But from afar it's quite lovely and cinematic

It's all cool and aesthetic,
Until you're the victim

Struggling like a confused lab rat,
Don't worry you'll adapt to the pain and confusion

But smile for others, you're their show.

It's like I want to be let in,
Let into the real world,
Let into others' lives,

But how can I if I can't even let the truth into my own life?

Parfois je me sens que je suis morte dans ce monde.

C'est difficile d'expliquer, mais si je dis ça, la société pensera que je suis folle.

Tout le monde a peur de la vérité.