12 days of mellon collie: i do not want this

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I have become impossible, holding on to things that isn't there anymore. All bruised and beaten up, I am losing ground; I bet you know how this fucking world can beat you down. I am just made of dirt, I feel like I am the only one who thinks his way. I had this dream of using a rusted ice pick, stabbing it right into the side of my neck, puncturing it. So much blood for just a little hole, it flows just like a waterfall. And I just stay awake on my bed, thinking of ways to end it. Don’t go telling me that you care, because there isn’t anything much is there? Because I do not want this, I do not want this life and don’t you tell me just how I feel inside. Don’t you tell me how I feel; you just don’t know just how I feel.


the best
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