because all my friends are out there wasting themselves smoking four cigarettes in a row, rolling joints every night and meeting people who can easily crawl inside the hollow spaces in their hearts - and I remember how long it took me to get there; because all of them are living their own hell but have breaks to laugh at the sky and i always feel the most lonely, even if i’m not. i wonder how it must feel to have the world in your hands and happiness at your feet, sometimes i wish i’d also give myself away too just because i’m young and not having any fun. most my days are spent wondering what could have been. maybe if i had never swallowed the poison i wouldn’t be down to ignoring my parents and pretending to care about people who make wounds in my chest just because i am uterly alone. wish i was an angel flying the skies looking for peace somewhere else but i’m stuck and growing roots and growing apart from everthing real and i don’t know what to do. send help