Wait. So then how do we even know what's real and what's not? That isn't any fucking way to live. Never actually knowing? Yeah, you're such a tortured soul, you really have it fucking rough. Your life is such a infected pit of endless fucking despair.
You're forever blankly staring at that wall, just letting it pour out, out through your own eyes. A million things going through your own head, scanning the memories in your brain like a computer looking for a virus. This feeling of being dragged down by your own life, even though it's a life that feels weightless and worthless.
Who do you think you are? Telling me what I feel, thinking you can tell ME what I want. Thinking you can casually let me know what my own deepest fears and worries are. You think you can mention without a care in the world what keeps me awake in the dead of the night. No, I get it. It doesn't affect you because you don't have to deal with the consequences. You can easily taste the burnt edges of my mind without feeling the weight of it on your own fucking chest. How do you know what I'm thinking? Please, enlighten me, because I've never had my own level of pain wrapped up in front of me and tied in a neat little bow. My mistake, it's not real. It's just "hormones". So sorry, didn't realize this shit I have to put up with is a fake show put on by my fucked up age group.
What we're being told... is that we are all victims of the number of years it's been since were born. Well I'm sick of being shoved under the same stupid umbrella as everyone within 5 years of me. I'm sick of having my middle finger ripped off by some guy who thinks he knows me, whose forgotten what it's like to have your world crumple under the weight of your flaws. Just another brick in the wall.
Wait. It's just hormones.
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