It's enough to make you feel sick, the way your insides begin to feel hollow.
It was never really beautiful, I romanticize the hurt, so I don't have to feel the way it pulls through me, but as much as I deny it, I still do.
Because by the time I was ready to understand, you thought my wounds had healed.
Now you sit and wonder why I've turned bat shit fucking crazy, no, maybe you're just hurt, and I don't blame you.
You don't actually deserve the things I do and say to you.
Oh, how the guilt eats me alive in ways you'll never know, maybe you should though.
The sickness is now triggered by my own actions, and that's almost somehow worse, no, it is worse, I know how worthless you can feel when someone doesn't treasure you.
I swear deep down I never wanted to be cold, heartless, resenting you, but it fucking hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, like what in the fuck am I supposed to do?
Who tells you how to stomach something like this, the way you broke my fucking heart?
I swear this feeling in my stomach makes me want to cut it open and rip myself apart.
I never thought you would hurt me like this, this burn myself alive, so I don't have to feel it crawl through my skin type of hurt.
So, yeah, I've gone a little bat shit fucking crazy.
