Seriously, though
What the ****?
Why can't I suffer from something fun
Like an uncontrollable ****** disorder

Random points in situations that don't call for it
Entirely unprovoked, untriggered
Bam, I *** in my favorite blue jeans
And then it's done

Sure, it would be awkward from time to time
I'm sure an ****** at a funeral is frowned upon
But it sure as **** beats sheer, utter terror
For absolutely no apparent reason

They just aren't beautiful anymore
They used to be inspiring and insightful
They would fill me with profound ideas
And this unique way of seeing everything

But now, they're just a hindrance
Another relationship done and over
Another friendship severed because
Why save someone who's just drowning on land?

If I had a dollar for every panic attack
To ruin a friendship or scare away a girlfriend
I would have enough money
To afford to do something about them

Late nights on the bathroom floor
Blurred and blacked out memories
****** fits and bleeding wrists
They just aren't beautiful anymore.