You can’t see my scars. It’s hard to read my thoughts
I’m feeling… guess they’re not real then.
You believe in God. But even God doesn’t show his face when you need to talk. I’m still sick “Imaginary illness”.
I met the devil in my dreams. He said my dreams are what I never will achieve. He said I’m never getting better. And I need to stop using words together like mental and disease. That when hell will fucking freeze I’m a basket case.
Maybe I should lock my stupid ass away. Feeling like I’m half-awake from all these pills I have to take. No one even asks or fucking wonders if I am ok. I’m locked inside my head and I just can’t escape.
I hate parties, I hate people. I hate the kinda friend that only calls you when they need you. I fucking hate my bed but never leave it
Like a girl does when she’s beaten. Start to love the pain I’m feeling
Feeling numb is not me healing. Someone give me something to live for I can’t wake up to no one and expect me to feel more I used to dream of seeing my face up on the billboards. Now all I want is u to fucking see what I’m ill for
It’s all in your head. You’re always upset.
You call it disease. I call it depressed
It’s all in your head..