I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.
All I can feel is tears dropping down my face
I can hear the people talking about me
Those voices in my head, they are like demons summoning me
The blades cutting through my skin, like a hacksaw
All my feelings come rushing at once
I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty those are the…
I’d try to explain that it’s not really negativity or sadness anymore, it’s more just this detached, meaningless fog where you can’t feel anything about anything — even the things you love, even fun things — and you’re horribly bored and lonely.