Can I ask why we are playing pretend,
we've hit a bump in the road
and we're just carrying on like it was never there.
Hoping that the lies will be able to smoothen it out
so that no one will see the cracks it left behind.
But what if I am done pretending

I've been thinking a lot about how people change and in a way, I guess we are like the time because we don't stop for anyone and when we do, we get replaced.

Obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts that produce uneasiness, apprehension, fear or worry (obsessions), repetitive behaviors aimed at reducing the associated anxiety (compulsions), or a combination of such obsessions and compulsions.
That is what it tells me about my disorder.
It doesn't say anything about how I stay up every night
until the clock reads 3:33:33 each night because that's the time I am supposed to slepe at.
It says nothing about having to repeat things until they sound right.
Of coruse it won't tell you that I check that i've locked my door 33 times each day
because if it did it'd make you believe I was insane.
But please remember I am not insane
I am just anxiously worried about the simple things.

YOU WERE SO USED TO RUNNING
THAT YOU FORGOT HOW NICE IT WAS TO STOP.
YOU MET ME AND I KNEW IT WAS DIFFERENT,
SPARKS FLEW AND I WAS SCARED OF THE ELECTRICITY WE GAVE OFF
BUT YOU STOPPED RUNNING FOR ME
YOU STAYED AND HELPED ME UNDERSTAND YOU.
BUT NOW YOU'RE RUNNING AGAIN AND I CAN'T CATCH UP
AND NOW I REALISE I NEVER UNDERSTOOF YOU AT ALL

Fall in love with a writer,
let them write all your flaws
because when they're done
you'll see they possess beauty.

Fall in love with a writer
and tell them your regrets
they'll write them into fantasies
you'll never forget.

Fall in love with a writer
and tell them your fears
they'll write them until
you've conquered them.

Fall in love with a writer
and become the person
you've always wanted to be

I am 1 day old,
all the lights are hurting my eyes
and my head feels heavy.
My body is always in someone elses hands
I can't fend for myself.

I am 1 years old,
I am learning how to walk,
although i often fall over
and hurt myself.
Mum says she's proud of me,
she says i'm almost there.

I am 5 years old,
Today i started school
i met lots of new friends,
but i fell over and hurt myself.
The teachers helped me.

I am 9 years old,
Today I was out playing
I was at the park and I fell.
I fell and broke my arm.
Daddy took me to the hospital
and the doctors made it better.

I am 15 years old.
Today I cut myself.
my skin was the canvas,
the razor my brush.
I got a bandage,
and fixed it all up.

I am 16 years old.
Today I wrote my suicide note.
I hid it under my mom's pillow.
I'm not going to be alive tomorrow,
no one can help me now.

When words are left unspoken,
where do they go?
Do they stay in our hearts
waiting patiently to escape?
or do they leave us
for we missed the chance.

What if we all spoke
those words we were to afraid to say before.
Would the world be a better place
or would it still be this wasted wonderland

PLEASE DON'T FORGET ABOUT THE WAY MY EYES GLISTEN IN THE SUN
OR THE WAY MY HEART FAILS TO BEAT WHEN YOU'RE AROUND.
PLEASE DON'T FORGET ABOUT THE FEELING OF YOUR HAND IN MINE
OR THE WAY OUR LIPS LOCK TOGETHER, UNSEPERABLE.
OH GOD PLEASE,
PLEASE DON'T FORGET ME