Well, does my whole equate to an empty pack of cigarettes?
Were all those mistakes I made building toward nothing but regret?
And I can only deny it all for so long
Before the person I used to be eats me alive
I'm sick of lying to myself
Sick of pretending not to through everyone else
I'm sick of being nice, turning the other cheek
And then because of that being perceived as weak
I'm sick of other people's expectations dictating my personality
But most of all I'm sick of being sick of me
Some days I wanna wake up someone else
But mostly I don't wanna wake up (at fucking all)
When your own biggest enemy is yourself
Can you really get anymore fucked?
I swear to fucking god this beach town
Will be the death of me
It's like the ones I hate always complain
But only people I like ever actually leave
My own hypocrisy is suffocating
The biggest complainer has always been me
Just leave me here to stew
A product of my own apathy
And what am I working toward
When nothing seems worth fighting for anymore?
Why does nobody give a shit (especially me)?
There's something wrong with me
Throw my limp body out to sea
And hope that no one catches it
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