Keep your feelings far from me.
I hear that ****'s contagious.
I'm not trying to catch your affection.
And I've got some serious objections
to this whole love sick diagnosis.

Doctor, Doctor. What's the deal?
How's my heart of steel?
Is it melting? Warping? Disintegrating?
Write me a script for a void of emotion,
give me a brew or a potion to cure this notion
that love exists and people aren't evil.

Pills for headaches, **** ups and ******.
Why not wannabe loners?

For the people who just wanna be dead inside again.

The ones who hate the feeling of feeling.
Emotions send them reeling.
I don't want to deal with healing.
I wanna die inside again and skip resurrection.

If emptiness is an infection I wanna sick forever.
I don't need a doctor, I need an emotional dissection.
Pick it apart and sew it up without fixing ****.
I wanna be dead again.

I wanna find a boy and break his heart,
the way you broke mine.

I wanna tell him lies and make him swoon,
the way you did with me.

I wanna be an emotionless shell of a person,
the way you are.

I wonder how it feels to destroy somebody,
the way you destroyed me.

Is it fun? It must be. I wanna try.
I wanna make a boy cry.

I wanna make him think I care.
I wanna caress and kiss his hair and
then **** his best friend.

I want to make him need me.
Crave me.
Love me.

Think he'll die without me.
Then I wanna rip it all out from under him.

Baby, I wanna be like you.

Eleven Weeks. Is that all it took?
To take us from strangers, to
lovers, to strangers again? I knew
you for eleven weeks yet it felt
like a life time of memories.

Eleven Weeks. Is that all it took?
For me to break every rule of
love for you? To let down my guard
and make you the exception?

Only Eleven Weeks. For you to
become the most important person
in the world to me. For me to become
so co-dependent on you that the
thought of you not being near made me ill.

Eleven Weeks to go from a strong, independent woman to a love sick fool.
Eleven Weeks to sell my soul and give you everything you wanted from me.
Eleven Weeks to lose who I was because I thought you were so great.
Eleven Weeks to rethink my previous notions about love and affection.
Eleven Weeks to become the loneliest I've ever been.

It's not a lot of time and the simple fact that
Eleven
Measly
Weeks
Can change who I am at the core of my being is not okay with me.

Twenty one years being who I was.
Eleven Weeks to tear it all apart.

What we had didn't matter to me.
Didn't mean anything to me.
Without you I feel free.

Your touch of my skin didn't make me feel.
Because I knew it wasn't real.
You're nothing to me.

The words you said didn't captivate me.
Enamor me.
It was just an act,
I'm sure you'll agree.

You were just a game to play.
A heart to betray.
You're worthless to me.

You're a ghost to me.
At most you'd be,
nothing more than
a mind to ****.
A stupid schmuck.

Sorry.
Sorry.
I just needed to lie for a second.

Because my lies are your realties.
I'm done with the formalities.

It hurts. Because I cared and shared
all that was the mess of me with
somebody as unworthy as you
because I thought I knew
who you were and your intent with my heart.

I should've seen from the get that I was
just another
twit you could mold and fool.

I'm sorry.
I just need to lie again.
For a moment.

I'm fine now.
I'm strong now.
It doesn't hurt.
I'm moving on.
I'm better off.
I feel alive.
I'll be okay.

Sorry.
Sorry.
I just need to lie for a second.

I'm glad we had it.
I don't regret it.
I'm glad I opened up.
I'm glad I shared my trust.

Sorry.
Sorry.
Sorry for the lies.

Ten
"I don't want you to be angry with me, alright?"
Alright

Nine
"This just isn't what I want right now, okay?"
Okay.

Eight
"I feel really bad for leading you on."
It's fine

Seven
"I'm just not in a good place."
I understand

Six
"I don't wanna ruin our friendship."
Me neither

Five
"And you're a sweet girl."
Thanks

Four
"It's just really hard."
No, I get it.

Three
"Are you alright?"
Yeah

Two
"Cool then?"
Yeah

One*
"Cool."
Cool