I could be alone I could be sad I could cry myself to sleep But I don't I walk through cemeteries And have panic attacks And fall in love Far too often I guess that's just a side effect Of deciding to live
This is honestly messing with my head. Is this what living is? Have I ever done it before? When did things change? Did I really make that decision, or was it made for me? No, I don't think it was. Other people decided to keep me alive, but I was the one who decided I wanted to live. I'm glad too.