There are days when being alive feels so good.
For a while it was what I looked forward to.
Every time I had a bad day, a bad week, a bad month, I would tell myself that one day I’m going to wake up and love life again.
I’m afraid it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way.
Living for other people is exhausting.
Why would I stay alive to let other people love me
When I can’t even love myself?

I should be thinking about how great my future is going to be but instead I’m thinking about ways to **** myself;
and that’s not beautiful or poetic.
It’s sad.

Your eyes are like pools of honey.
You keep me warm like the skies are sunny.
My soul burns for you.
You are my love story
Basking in our glory.
Oh my love,
My soul burns for you.
I am the locket, you are the key,
You opened me up and set me free.
Love me like the sky loves the sea.
Set my heart on fire,
Tell me all of your desires.
My soul burns for you.
Wake me up like a cup of coffee
On a cold winter day.
Wrap me up,
Let’s sleep the night away.
My soul burns for you.

September 3, 2013:
I really need to stop drinking because I always say and do things that I don’t really mean. I don’t really mean to do the things that I do, do I? Sometimes I don’t even know who I am.

September 5, 2013:
I saw a man today, he was wearing a grey suit with a red tie. He gave me pills, he said that they would help. I don’t know what they’re supposed to help with but I guess I’ll give them a try.

September 10, 2013:
These pills give me headaches. I don’t like them. They make thoughts really fuzzy. I’m going to see the man in the grey suit tomorrow. He said he wanted to check in with me. I hope he can fix this.

September 11, 2013:
The man in the grey suit told me the headaches are normal and that they should subside in a few days. I hope he’s right.

September 20, 2013:
I think the pills are working. I haven’t had a headache in a week, I don’t even feel fuzzy anymore. I think taking these were the right thing to do.

October 1, 2013:
I saw the man in the grey suit today, only today he was wearing a blue suit. A blue suit with a white tie. I finally asked him what his name was. He said that his name is Steven. He said that he wants to discontinue the pills. He thinks that they’re not right for me.
Steven is a nice name.

October 6, 2013:
I woke up covered in a sticky, red liquid. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t remember anything that happened last night. I think I need to visit Steven.

October 6, 2013:
Steven didn’t answer. I’ll try again tomorrow. I should clean up.

October 9, 2013:
I finally was able to talk to Steven. He asked me if I was drinking again. I haven’t had a drink in weeks. Now that I think about it... I never told him about that problem...

October 13, 2013:
I woke up with covered in a sticky, red liquid. There was a girl sitting at my kitchen table wearing a white dress and a trail of sticky, red liquid that lead from the girl to my front door. What a pretty girl. How did she get into my house?

October 21, 2013:
I haven’t been able to ahold of Steven for two weeks. I keep having dreams about the girl sitting at my kitchen table. She won’t stop screaming at me. She’s such a pretty girl.

October 25, 2013:
I need to stop drinking because I always say and do things that I don’t really mean.

October 30, 2013:
I woke up in a room today. A room with white walls and a white bed. I’m in clothes I’ve never seen before. I spoke to a man in a grey suit with a red tie. His name wasn’t Steven. He won’t tell me why I’m here. He told me that I should stop writing for a while.

You think the world owes you something.
Well, honey, life don’t work that way.
Always walking around with something negative to say.
You talk about your life being a drag
Rolling a joint with your last zigzag.
Wondering why the universe didn’t give you the life you think you deserve
When you didn’t even try to put in the hard work.
You’re nothing but a ****.
Oh, poor me,
Wallowing in your self pity,
Cracking jokes that you think are witty.
Tired of living in this city.
You can run from your problems but you can’t hide
From those demons that are trapped inside.
Still searching for a free ride.
Who let your head get so ******* big?
Acting like a pig.
In a hole that is getting deeper
Still running from the grim reaper.
Your soul is getting weaker.
No one likes an attention seeker.

You’re so desperate for love that you latch onto the first person that shows you any kind of affection.
That is not called love, darling.
It is infatuation.
You sit in a web of lies, treating a person like they’re someone you despise.
You are not in love,
You are drowning in infatuation.
You are so obsessed with the idea of a person when you don’t even know who that person truly is;
And I may not know a lot about love but I know enough to know that that is not love.
So pour yourself another shot of ***** and complain about how no one loves you.
No one will love you because you won’t give them a chance.
Your idea of love is so warped, you do not own a person because you love them,
And they aren’t required to make you their world.
That is why you are in love with the idea of love;
And you are doomed to be in a relationship with infatuation.
You cannot accept your flaws,
To be honest, you probably never will.
You will live in a world being lonely,
As you cry, saying, “I just want someone to hold me.”
All the drugs in the world won’t take away your pain.
So, keep throwing your chances with someone down the drain.
Because you do not want a person to love you.
You want the idea of a person loving you.
But that isn’t what love is about.
You want all of the good times.
You can’t handle the bad.
You only want someone who only gives you attention,
The attention you didn’t get from your deadbeat dad.
So go home and be sad.
Manifest this life you wish you had.
But you won’t allow anyone to truly love you.
Because all you care about is infatuation.

The days are shorter and the nights have grown cold.
I pick myself apart because I'm tired of getting old.
I thought I pushed those demons down to my core,
but I'm still searching for that next score.
I guess that makes me a liar.
I thought I was getting better but what is getting better, anyway?
I'm just another sad kid from a ****** mid-western town;
and the winters hurt my bones,
and I'm so tired of feeling alone.
I spent so many summers planning my future.
Where will I go?
Who will I see?
Searching and searching for a better part of me.
Constantly fighting with the dark side of my brain.
I tell myself that I will do better,
and I wont let those demons win.
But my demons always win.
I guess that makes me a liar.
Counting the scars that haunt my skin that was once so clean.
So pure. So beautiful.
I search for that version of me that is so clean.
So pure. So beautiful.
She is no longer here.
She wont ever be.
How am I supposed to let people know who I am,
when I don't even know who I am?
I've worked so hard,
with nothing to show,
and I'm losing sight of what's in front of me.
Unsure of what direction to go;
And I'm so lonely,
and love isn't enough,
and I don't really know what love is, anyway.
People always leave when times get rough.
They stay around for the good but never the bad.
But what happens when I'm always bad and never good?
I ******* needed you.
But I'm still a liar.