If apathy is a part of me then I am not where I need to be, I can't see myself in anything and I find myself so distant to everything in my life, and each day I seem to speak less I keep falling out of line.
It's starting to sink in that I can't escape this cloud of depression.
I don't know what I want, I don't know what to say but I'm tired of waiting for the seasons to change in this atmosphere of neglect.
I know that everything I touch all slips away or starts to fucking rust.
All the pain I go through is a lie I just can't tell, another year of feigned false suffering when honestly I feel nothing, and that's my struggle, it's not fair of me to put it on you but that clock's been burning minutes and I'm still drawing question marks most of the time.
I don't think it's enough, I don't think it's fair to lie because what you go through deserves more than a few empty words about dealing with pain, especially when it's fake, especially when it's made.
Because you don't feel the way I do, but i still sell myself to you.
I am a manufactured product, I am synchronized and tuned to be the machine you need me to be.
I am a product, you are a pawn, I am sorry but I cannot change how these lines are drawn, because acquaintance sells better than emotional anomaly so I tuck my contradictions into creases and when the wrinkles straighten out I'll be flattened into one dimension and you can stare at me until you figure me out.
I've become an addict to this imagined self-mutilation but I never felt a thing other than exhaust and my daydreams don't stop, I've been pulling my teeth out.
As far as I can see they're a currency, I've only got so much to give and my pain's become my bond.
I don't lament my disconnect from the world around me; I just can't figure out what I need.
It's all too much to take: the thought that all this is going to end up as regret, but will it matter in the end?
So forget these words, I have an apathetic alibi: never cared, never will.