Wouldn't You Like to Know? Didn't Think So.
And that’s the way the world goes round.
Yeah, I’m not dying. I’m not ill. I’m not poor.
I’m going to college, have a career set, have friends.
I don’t want to focus on my future career. I don’t want to hang out with my friends.
What do I want?
What in God’s name do I want?
Why don’t I want to practice?
Why don’t I want to leave my house?
Hang out with my family?
Visit friends whom I won’t see for a year?
I must be ungrateful. I don’t care.
I’m arrogant. Selfish. Sarcastic.
Who’s to tell me not to be?
I am what I am; you can’t change me.
People can break me. They can get to me. I act like I’m a brick wall which cannot be pummeled.
But I’m wrong.
Am I wrong if I know that I’m deceiving myself?
Or am I simply naïve in hoping that I can be stronger than I am?
I’m not strong.
My desires control me. I’m on lock down.
And what do I do?
So many questions. I’m asking questions that don’t matter. Nothing matters.
I should have a pity party.
Guest’s list: Population 1.
Oh that sounds like fun; a real blast.
Who would want to join me anyways?
I’m sour.
I’m bitter. I’m unpleasant.
I’m a little brat who can’t get what she wants.
And what do I want?
Oh, just about what every other idiotic person wants on this God-forsaken planet.
To be loved.
That’s what all the cheap love songs are about. All the pathetic TV shows.
And what have I learnt from them?
Give up.
It doesn’t work out in the end and to be optimistic will only result in my own down fall.
I think I’ve had that downfall. I never recovered.
I’m not happy. What’s there to be happy about?
Life?
Life isn’t beautiful. They say to open your eyes.
Well my eyes are fucking open. And I’m disgusted in what I see.
Death, decay, distraught, danger.
It sweeps across everywhere. It’s as abundant as air.
Breathe it in. That’s reality.
Yeah, I’m not dying. I’m not ill. I’m not poor.
I’m going to college, have a career set, have friends.
I don’t want to focus on my future career. I don’t want to hang out with my friends.
What do I want?
What in God’s name do I want?
Why don’t I want to practice?
Why don’t I want to leave my house?
Hang out with my family?
Visit friends whom I won’t see for a year?
I must be ungrateful. I don’t care.
I’m arrogant. Selfish. Sarcastic.
Who’s to tell me not to be?
I am what I am; you can’t change me.
People can break me. They can get to me. I act like I’m a brick wall which cannot be pummeled.
But I’m wrong.
Am I wrong if I know that I’m deceiving myself?
Or am I simply naïve in hoping that I can be stronger than I am?
I’m not strong.
My desires control me. I’m on lock down.
And what do I do?
So many questions. I’m asking questions that don’t matter. Nothing matters.
I should have a pity party.
Guest’s list: Population 1.
Oh that sounds like fun; a real blast.
Who would want to join me anyways?
I’m sour.
I’m bitter. I’m unpleasant.
I’m a little brat who can’t get what she wants.
And what do I want?
Oh, just about what every other idiotic person wants on this God-forsaken planet.
To be loved.
That’s what all the cheap love songs are about. All the pathetic TV shows.
And what have I learnt from them?
Give up.
It doesn’t work out in the end and to be optimistic will only result in my own down fall.
I think I’ve had that downfall. I never recovered.
I’m not happy. What’s there to be happy about?
Life?
Life isn’t beautiful. They say to open your eyes.
Well my eyes are fucking open. And I’m disgusted in what I see.
Death, decay, distraught, danger.
It sweeps across everywhere. It’s as abundant as air.
Breathe it in. That’s reality.