my emotions are too scattered

anger bubbles to quickly, too swiftly

my hands are tied behind my back

and yet i have the knife to cut them out

my screams seem to echo for ages

but i know that they're traitorous

simply staying inside my head

and i know one day

ill die

and dying doesnt strike in me

i hate being alone

and yet i cant talk

im drowning

and yet im still stuck wading in two inch deep water

i hide myself

in a big cacoon of smiles and laughs

of an overly agressive caricature of myself

and i try to fill my hollow being with chocolate

before i thought addiction was limited to drugs

but i realized my addiction is lack of sleep

the dark blue heavy lines already appearing under my eyes

the countless nights ive already stayed up

trying to be the person im not

my addiction is like others

and yet i believe im special

a variable never seen before

but why should i write this out

my words are meaningless

unless of course

theyre written in a paper

double spaced

Times New Roman font

My life is perfect.

See.

Double spaced.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.