"Everybody thinks you're crazy."
How much does a phrase like that hurt?
Almost as much as what it means.
Acid, eating through layers of your skin,
Slowly burning down to the marrow of your bones.
"Everybody thinks you're crazy."
Doesn't matter if you are or not.
Who's to say I'm not, after all?
But that it's said, that it's believed.
You have no right to think it
If you haven't lived it.
Ever felt like ripping your own skin off?
Ever writhed in the night full of screams that won't sound
Even when you try?
Ever sat in a quiet classroom and wondered if this next moment you would sob?
Ever had your heart beat so fast and hard, for such a long time
That you worried it would fail for real?
Ever seen a doctor about it?
Ever begged someone to help you and had them not believe?
Ever been so afraid that you wished you were dead just so it would stop?
No?
Then shut the **** up.
You know nothing.
"Everybody thinks you're crazy."
Must you twist the knife?
Must that make me nothing?
You fight to ****, darling.
You do
And I don't.
Is that why everybody thinks I'm crazy?