It's Always About Her

Go on.  Go ahead.  That's right honey, work that angle.  Work that suffering.  Wait, wait, hold on;  you haven't driven those nails far enough into your wrists.  There.  Better.

Pretend you're high  pretend you're bored

Go on.  Pretend that nobody else has ever had the problems you are faced with.  Pretend that nobody has ever suffered as much as you.  Pretend that you don't see what you are doing.

Pretend you're anything just to be adored...

You are a pathetic attention-seeker.  You thrive on the pity, the sympathy.  You relish the fit of your pessimistic guise.  You do enjoy stirring them into a worried frenzy with your pseudo-intellectual depressive nonsense.  The truth is, you never get off your ass and help yourself.  You never lift a finger.  Instead you remain upon the platorm you have constructed, and plead your case to your followers, hoping they will save you.  But they can't save you from yourself.

You stupid girl

Oh I know, I know.  Sometimes, you don't see what you are doing.  You don't see the fallacy of your ways.  You don't ever mean to harm or belittle anyone's problems.  But you do.  You are the epitome of selfish suffering.  And the routine is tired.  Nobody wants to hear it anymore.  You lack the passion now.  It's more an exercise of habit.  Something, anything, to make you feel wanted and alive.

All you had you've wasted (Garbage)

But it has to stop.  It has to end.  There is a limit to how many times you can proclaim yourself this or that and command the attention of your friends.  It's time to hand over your soapbox and give them a turn.

And please, get off the cross.  We need the wood.


Your Inner Mind.

Sideline Junkies.