Pretty Like Drugs

My arm looks as though it’s been attacked by a lawnmover and i’m going on holiday in like 20 days.. FML

would appreciate someone completely blocking my thoughts for me, and this rate i’ll either not wake up tomorrow or there with be nothing left of my arm… arghhh„ feeling so fucking low tonight.. worst in a long time and i don’t even know why.. :’(

I hate those nights when you just need a friend and noones there.. noone is ever there to be honest.

:(

Feel shit! Got the urge to get drunk so i don’t have to think.

Favourite lyrics ever because they can’t get anymore true.

Back and forth, forth and back I keep pacing.
I stay the same while this world keeps changing.
I try to run but these walls got me caged in.
Is it real or just my imagination?

Sometimes I wonder if these walls know my deepest secrets,
from whom I love, to who I fall asleep with.
Can they see my sadness, my raging madness,
or that stack of porno magazines underneath my matress?
Can they hear my breathing, or my footsteps leaving?
Sneaking out my window ‘cuz I’m tired of my parents screaming.
Louder than Metallica playing with a symphony.
Louder than crowds in the eighties screaming for Tiffany.
I feel secluded, my thoughts feel polluted.
So I escape to music ‘cuz I think it’s therapuetic, and,
this whole world can hate or love me, or think i’m ugly,
‘cuz unlike my friends these walls wont judge me.
These walls wont betray me, these walls are like my safety.
But sometimes I feel like these walls drive me crazy.
They enslave me or chase me by myself.
‘cuz if these walls see everything, why the fuck don’t they help?

If these walls could talk they’d say,
that I was so damn lonely.
It feels like no one knows me.
These walls keep closing on me.
If these walls could talk they’d say,
that I was so damn lonely.
It feels like no one knows me.
These walls keep closing on me.

These walls are my leviathan, my cage, my lion’s den.
I’m feeling trapped, strapped to this bed that I’m lying in.
I can’t escape it so I grab hold of my blanket,
counting the cracks on the ceiling for my own entertainment.
And this order, it feels like post mortem, shit,
I’d rather have my pumpkin smashed by Billy Corgan.
‘cuz these walls watch me fall asleep and wake up,
they’ve seen my first kiss, they’ve seen my parents break up.
They’ve seen how I like to make sure my door stays shut.
cuz I like my privacy without it the inside of me
would fall to pieces like clothes with a bad seamstress.
These walls are my diary, my notepad, my Jesus.
A change of scenery is really all I need.
‘cuz these walls are closing in and it’s hard for me to breathe.
It’s hard for me to leave but not hard for me to fall.
I just don’t wanna become another brick in the wall.

If these walls could talk they’d say,
that I was so damn lonely.
It feels like no one knows me
These walls keep closing on me.
If these walls could talk they’d say,
that I was so damn lonely.
It feels like no one knows me
These walls keep closing on me.

Back and forth, forth and back I keep pacing.
I stay the same while this world keeps changing.
I try to run but these walls got me caged in.
Is it real or just my imagination?
Back and forth, forth and back I keep pacing.
I stay the same while this world keeps changing.
I try to run but these walls got me caged in.
Is it real or just my imagination?

I fucking detest my life.. the only thing keeping my going is my tattooing.

Sick with myself but i’ve got no-one else,
so i give it to myself it’s the only thing that helps.
It’s the same thing, this pain thing that keeps me from sleeping and screaming,
god i must be mother-fucking dreaming.
And i can rest in peace, atleast cease to be,
cease to see those things in me that wanna make me cease to breathe.
and ceased to need and ceased to feed sickness that’s in me,
this is all i can be, i can’t beathe as i bleed.

i won’t cry it’ll be fine, i’ll take my last breath, push it out my chest till there’s nothing left.

I’m not gonna lie, i feel totally disgusted with myself.. i need to sort my image out and fast, i’m getting fatter and it’s still just as depressing as it was years ago when it first started.