Well, yeah… my hand is killing me.
fuck you i hate myself
I’m done with punching walls and the indifference.
And writing songs you’ll never hear.
The self-destructive thoughts are taking me back to 2010.
It’s not right, ‘cause even though I failed, trials were made.
It’s not right, ‘cause every time you cried, I died inside.
Again and again, I’m tired of trying to convince myself
That you’ll ever write me back.
It’s not fair.
Huge events in my life right now, lots of anxiety.
Today I feel like I hate to play guitar, my hands are too small for that RG8 and I ain’t worth shit. I fucking hate myself and I fucking want to kill someone since I saw that motherfucking tweet and that goddamn foursquare check in. I can hardly breathe, I can’t stop throwing punches, elbows and kicks to the wall, I fucked up my hands once again. I guess I’m punching walls because in the end I know it’s all my fault and I deserve the pain behind all the shit I’ve thrown at that motherfucking wall.
sad selfies fml.