Cope

You are a robber, stealing things just to get by
but you know how thieves make me feel;
they make me want to cry.
When I was five, a bandaid made things feel alright.
I'd be scared to talk, but with my mom by my side
I wouldn't feel so shy
things were simple when I was young
there were no expectations of me
nothing to get wrong
and I feel so awkward now
trying so hard to get it right
and not much figured out, and
bandaids don't fix anything
the blood will still bleed through
I can't hold my mother's hand
every time I'm feeling blue.
You've stopped stealing to get by
you've found a job
you're still not happy, though,
I caught you last night when you sobbed
on the back porch
burned your cigarette out in the snow,
you never knew I watched
or that I know,
Oh I know,
life is so hard and we don't get what we want even though we try so hard
sometimes, it doesn't seem fair,
our goals seem so far away
and I know you're scared on how to get there
my mom thinks I'll get there,
but I haven't much faith in myself
most the time I've been alive
I've been wishing I was someone else...
bandaids don't fix anything,
the blood will still bleed through,
I can't hold my mother's hand
every time I'm feeling blue
She's so far away, too
I feel like the world is ending
everything's falling apart
I'll figure this out eventually
but right now I've no thoughts on what to do
it's hard to take my medicine when I fantasize on downing the whole bottle
falling asleep in my dorm bed, thinking about tomorrow....
Figure it out
figure it out
guessing games all end the same they hurt so fucking bad
I'm tired of constantly having to cope, not knowing what's ahead.
I think back to the other week,
you'd said that was your last cigarette,
you're smoking on the porch again,
you got a bit too sad,
you're trying.....

Map (?)

Why do I feel so disconnected from people, but they intrigue me so much? I'm constantly observing others, but at the same time, I feel like I'm not there, or if I am, they don't want me to be. That could be entirely untrue, but it's how I feel and how I've felt for ages. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever feel normal around people again... I can't remember a time I did, honestly. I've always been an outsider. it's just what happened, I don't know. If I really wanted to I could probably find the root of the problem but I don't think I could handle it. I know it has to do with the period between second through fourth grade because oddly enough, those are the times I started to realize I was different.... I've gotta map this out.

Pick

Maybe my picking at my cuticles is my own way of self harm? It hurts in the best way, it kinda feels soothing. I like the feeling of ripping the skin, feeling it rip from deep layers of flesh, sometimes even hearing the noise of the tear. It's thrilling, but it hurts afterwards, and I have to cover my fingers up with bandaids when they bleed and ooze plasma, and I can't paint my nails. I'm ashamed that I pick at my cuticles until they bleed and throb with pain but I can't stop. Why not? 

Morgan

I wanna just be friends

You wanna hold my hand

You wanna be together

But thats not in the plans

I think you're really sweet

You're fun to hang out with

But unfortunately

My heart's in someone else's grip