I have this feeling inside that I wouldn't like me if I met me.
I'm my own worst casualty, everything i touch can get broken.
The truth is that I'm self-destructive. I'm insecure, I'm out of focus.

And I've always known a ghost like me, can disappear in a moment.

You don't see me that way. You hear the words that I say, but you're giving me perspective. Even if it's better than mine, i'll still be defective and you'll still be wasting your time.
You read "Sorry, try again." off the inside of a bottle cap; story of your life.
You never come first, you're never the winner, you're never the best.
There's always someone better.
The truth is, you're never good enough.

"Maybe next time." They would say. "You did your best. At least you tried."
All these things are supposed to make you feel better, but it just reminds you that no matter how hard you try, how you gave it your all, you failed.
The truth is, you'll never be good enough.

You read, "Fight for your dreams. Never give up." off a poster; the same old message.
Dreams, they do exist. Old dreams, they never really die.
They are always there, living as regrets of what might have been.
The truth is, I'm not ambitious enough for my own dreams.

Hey, don't stare too closely.
'Cause you will see this break down in all its elegance and grace.
Like a model wearing the wrong make-up and clothes for her own fashion parade.
A monkey in man suit. A child in her mother's clothes.
Hey, don't ask me what's wrong.
'Cause what's wrong with me is what's right in you.
It's like looking at the stars thinking, "At least that's something no one can have." and you rip them out right before my eyes.

The truth...?

Inspire me. Whisper to me tell me everything I wanna hear.These words only ever mean something when they come from someone else’s mouth.

There are always fucking bastards/bitches in this world whose one decision can tear apart a family, shred a man's sanity and break the young and innocent's dreams.

I feel like I'm unravelling my shreds of sanity and reason. Maybe for once, I'm really disappearing. I wish I could change the world and watch our enemies come unplugged while they sleep inside their heads. But I can’t find the beds on which they lie. It’s harder when they’re under the cover of everything they've wished for. But I'm just nothing, running on empty.

Hey, did I mention that yesterday night while you're fucking your wife; having a great time in your bed, a man screamed for his sanity, thumped the walls for salvation while the wrecked and hopeless wept for his bloodied knuckles?

Man, you must have slept well yesternight.
God, if you're real, don't fucking let this happen to me.

It's like waking up to a clear sunny day. And the next thing that happens is a hurricane that destroys everything it touches, your loved ones and everything you hold dear to your heart.

The truth is I'm scared.
But who will hold me… And tell me it’s alright to be scared?

I hope you're having a good time up there.