Take me back to yesterday,
where the grass was noticeably greener and the water was warm to the touch.
The trees stood tall, and when you looked up the Sun spilled yellow happiness straight down your throat. No worries about choking, because dancing with the Sun was enough.
Reverse the clock,
and let me live in a fantasy.
Please, oh please
don't leave me here to be.
I can't deal with it here today.
I can hear all of their negative thoughts screaming at me as I walk past and as I walk away I'm struck by lightning, as punishment from the Gods themselves, forcing me to sit and listen and listen.
My only state of euphoria is thinking back to when the Sun was setting and the air was breathing cold, but there wasn't a care in the world.
Take me back to yesterday,
where my breathing wasn't staggered,
and I wasn't constantly looking for my lighthouse.
Thirty shiny stars, and a single dull dime.
Tell me, please, that when I go, it will all get better.

I've try my **** hardest to feel loved, accepted.

I lead people to fall in love, and leave them because I can. Even though I promised them different.

I complain about boys, but the boys aren't the problem it's me. I'm the one who makes these problems for myself because it's easier to push everyone away and deal with those consequences as they come, rather than to accept my forever fate. I say it's because I'm young, I can't find the one. I know all the right things to say, so they'll stick around, even after i've left them in the dust too many times, but I do know not to say love. It confuses them, and me.

I know love isn't in my heart, never has. Heartbreak started before I was born. When my father didn't want me, my mother couldn't have truly wanted me, after all she was 16, everyone around me was burdened by me before I even opened my eyes.

I hear it a lot, "you look, remind me of your mother" "You remind me so much of myself" "My mini me" You have the same issues, depression, bipolar, trust issues, and failure to commit, it's pretty insignificant, but it's lurking there, in my head. Scratch that it all races through my veins, and I'm surrounded by it, as everyone I know is infected by it too.

It commitment even real? As far as I know, it's something I couldn't even imagine. I have these people trying to get at me, claiming, "Let it be just me and you baby" but every time I fall for those lies, I can't help to start chasing a different one, more and more.

Picking up that bottle seems like second nature. Along with my issues, I was blessed with addiction, that's racing through my veins more than commitment isn't. I'm told not to let it get out of hand, after all I've seen what it does to people. But I can't help but find myself longing for the next time I can feel the warmth of that liquid as it slides down my throat. Longing for the next time I can place that skinny piece of paper between my fingers, lighting it as the smoke slithers down to find my lungs, inhaling to insure it's doing it's job, then exhaling to see the smoke dance around the air that's consuming me. Longing for the next time I can feel happiness. Longing for the next time I can punch something to release my anger, because we all know I can't do it creatively.

you say im skinny
but my hands dont wrap around my wrists the same way they use to

drop a spoon, you’re getting company
drop a fork, you’ll have a fight
asinine superstitions
instilled in me by my mother
probably out of the boredom of being a mom
but almost everything we believe is baloney
so who knows
and now i dropped a fork AND a spoon
so someone’s coming over to punch me

“truthfully, i'm not sure I ever loved him,” she says. i can see the glint of tears in her eyes, but it isn’t sadness as much as it is shame. she looks away. “but god, i loved the way he looked at me.”

a sort of desperation rises from the pit in my stomach and my hand darts out to catch her as she turns. “liza, i--”

“no!” she yanks away. “you can’t just come back here like this.” she looks to the side, looking at anything but me. “i can’t handle this, nick,” she whispers. “i can’t handle you.” her eyes are shining when they finally meet mine. “you and i, we’re too much. i can’t think about anything when i’m with you, and you,” she trails off and takes another step towards the door. “you never think at all.”

I shouldn't be up this late
I have work in the morning
I hate my boss
I hate my job
I'd quit if I didn't need the money
But I can't stop the drinking
And I can't shake the feeling
Of you on my lips
I'm cursed forever
With the taste of your kiss
And your hands on my hips

I need someoone to help
Did I tell you I'm drinking
I hate this taste
I say hate too much
Is that why you left me lonely
But I can't stop the drinking
And I can't shake the feeling
Of being alone
I'll guess I'll get use to this
Or at least try
  
Everything feels so strange
And I know I am up too late
But
I'm smoking the buds of your cigarettes
Just to be where your lips have been
I'm only doing this all because I think that I need it
It's as close as I can get to you

Yeah as close as I can get
(As close as I'll ever be)
As close I can get to you

I'm smoking the buds of your cigarettes
The ones you left in the ash tray
During our last conversation
I'm wearing your t shirts
I'm listening to your favorite mix tape
I'm only doing this all because I think that I need it
It's as close as I can get to you