Tell me,
what do you know about self destruction?
About a sick warmth that comes from something so cold?
Or the ecstasy that spawns from the slight pain?
What do you knowww... About wrecklessness.
Ending up in a totaled car closely followed by medical faults, and days later your face is pressed against the glass of a car while flashing lights make you dizzy and your wrists are nearly bleeding.

And tell me hou discerning it is that your family will love you through out this entire idiotic display until you let the word slip on a different sexuality?

My life is lived out in the streets, not on some computer screen. My art is only a fraction of who I am, and not nearly enough of it is out on the web for anyone to know something about me. My life is a trainwreck.

Positivity can only take you so far, and in the end you're only left with one person to depend on...

Yourself.

Nobody will come through when you need them most, nobody with stand behind you if you fall, and you will fall. And you will be the only one to pick you up again.
This is a fine routine, however it's fucking EXHAUSTING.
Hello wit's ends, I've never really met you like I have today.