She’s got a monkey on her shoulder pulling apart her brain, and it’s like no one gives a fuck because everyone that’s sane,
is insensitive as shit as soon she hits their nerve,
fucking crazy bitch, just deal with it and join the world,
and everyone like her, is just as worried bout they selves, because it’s so much fucking work, asking anyone for help.
Because it’s so much fucking work, asking anyone for help.
Because it’s too much fucking work, getting any real help. She’s a beautiful girl, slightly blonde and pretty face,
thick thighs, fat ass and a nice slim waste,
she wakes up feeling like the world is hers, puts on a pretty pink dress and walks right out the door,
stops to get some breakfast before heading into work,
steals a little something to feel the rush of blood flow,
feeling like a boss, she gets plenty of attention,
see’s the guy she digs, approaches with no hesitation,
hey cutie pie, here’s a smile and a wink,
now take me to the bathroom and bend me over the sink,
she’s confident as fuck and knows exactly what she wants, an orgasm in the morning from some long fat dick. Leaves a mother-fucker sweating,
asking what the fuck just happened?
Hops in right in the car, over the speed limit by ten.
Young as fuck, none of her peers are in her lane, she works, at a lab, study-ing, the human brain,
she’s impressive as fuck and everybody says the same.
The kind of shit she does would send others down the drain.
Works all day and through most of the night, makes it back to her dorm room through everyone’s line of sight,
she’s got a gorgeous smile, but it only lasts while she forgot to take her meds, shits about to get wild. She’s got a monkey on her shoulder pulling apart her brain, and it’s like no one gives a fuck because everyone that’s sane, is insensitive as shit as soon she hits their nerve,
fucking crazy bitch, just deal with it and join the world,
and everyone like her, is just as worried bout they selves, because it’s so much fucking work, asking anyone for help.
Because it’s so much fucking work, asking anyone for help.
Because it’s too much fucking work, to get any real help. Everything is blue so she doesn’t get out of bed,
she barely makes a move to reach the dresser for her meds. Only one foot on the floor, she rushes to the mirror ugly and fat are the first thoughts that pop into her head. Goes over to the fridge cause she ain’t leaving the dorm, barely eats anything, it all tastes like its off the floor,
texts from all her friends keep blowing up her phone,
she knows the next ones coming are from coworkers, gathers all her strength and makes her way to the lab, heads home soon as she can, cause there’s nothing she can stand,
not work, not friends, not food, not guys, not being indoors, not being outside, not walking round, fuck exercise,
not Netflix, music, books, her thighs, they feel fat, she can’t stand that, her waist ain’t thin, food in the bin, in her face despise, compliments are lies, she can find nothing of worth in her head, so she retreats to the shelter in her bed, nothing about life fills the emptiness inside, every second, every minute, wishing she would die, so she rushes to the bathroom, pulls out the blades, cuts them thighs, again and again and again,
cause at least the pain, lets her feel something, so she can start to feel like life isn’t a cruel worthless game. She’s got a monkey on her shoulder pulling apart her brain, and it’s like no one gives a fuck because everyone that’s sane,
is insensitive as shit as soon she hits their nerve,
fucking crazy bitch, just deal with it and join the world,
and everyone like her, is just as worried bout they selves,
because there’s so much fucking work, asking anyone for help.
Because it’s so much fucking work, asking anyone for help.
Because it’s so much fucking work, to get any real help. She’s had this disease her whole young life, even been to hos-pi-tal for it once or twice,
and it’s not like the only thing she knows is pain,
friends and family have helped her with her restraint. But constantly moving between two extremes,
makes it hard to pursue what she wishes in her dreams,
like holding onto a man without driving him away, at the first or last sign of a mental break, or the fear she won’t be able to hold a steady job,
cause one day she’ll get arrested at a store she tried to rob, or starting a family to love and help her grow, but when she thinks of having children that goes out the window,
she keeps her head up says societies improving, but it doesn’t take depression to make that start look foolish,
when every day’s more pills that she drinks down like a fish, and everything between cops and the sick end in shootings, so next time you’re measuring your own insecurities,
think about not knowing what to expect when you go to sleep
Is tomorrow gonna be the worst
or am I gonna wake up as the girl from the first verse.
But I don’t know shit, this ain't my story, we’re on the second to last page of Katie’s diary.
And on the very last page a suicide note,
that she stares at every day,
hearing yelling through the walls,
please don’t go, please don’t go please don’t go [repeat with beat]