It's hard to accept this,
but it is the truth,
I can pretty much sum up my life
with a series of really bad comedy sketches.
Yes, my life is not never ending stream
from conception until this very moment,
no, it's much more like a night sky,
pitch black darkness,
with moments of bright light.
These moments of flashes
burn so wild and bright,
too painful to remember,
but forget them I can't.
It hurts,
God, it hurts so bad.
Mother, I cannot forgive,
I just can't.
Here it comes
again...
No matter where I am,
it will take me away,
back to the moments
that I can't stand.
I am in my lecture,
trying to understand the secrets
of works written so far away, so long ago,
I wish I was there,
not here.
I am sitting there,
and I am in the bathroom,
I look in a mirror,
and I look so bad,
with my wrists cut open,
and there is blood everywhere,
and I am crawling on the kitchen floor,
beaten,
and every muscle aches.
And I am sitting in the living room,
where my mother is trying to explain,
what the freaking looser I am,
that I **** her life like some vampire,
that her life was ruined because of my existence,
that she wishes I was dead,
and I am sitting there,
in my lecture,
trying to fight the tears back.
My life is just flashes of light and darkness pitch black.