"You've been living awhile in the front of my skull, making orders.
You've been writing me rules, shrinking maps, redrawing borders. Ive
been repeating your speeches but the audience just doesn't follow.
Because I'm leaving out words, punctuation and it sounds pretty hollow.
Ive been living in bed because now you tell me to sleep. Ive been hiding
my voice and my face and you decide when I eat. In your dreams I'm a
criminal, horrible, sleeping around. While you're awake, I'm impossible,
constantly letting you down."
"Some one, oh anyone, Tell me how to stop this. She's screaming,
expiring and I'm her only witness. I'm freezing, infected, and rigid in
that room insider her. No one's gonna come as long as I lay still in bed
beside her."
Jag vill gråta, jag vill så gärna gråta. Men det kommer inget. Försöker pressa så hårt jag kan. Ögonen blir glansiga. Jag vill skrika. Men jag får inte ut ett ljud. Vill sova, sova bort all skit. Alla minnen. Alla mörka tankar. Sjukdomen styr verkligen mitt liv. Jag hatar det. Dom här känslostormarna.
Fuck it.
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