My Fictions все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

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.

I left after noon. I couldn’t stand to be in this room with all my stagnant dreams and my constant decay. I felt out of place and burdened with thoughts of escape: do you know the weight of collapsing into yourself? I found somewhere to run off – Route 2, down a bit by the railroad. I walked for hours, kept the trail. You took my whole day away, Mt Misery. You made sense to me. I told no one. It was just us.

Because when you’re feeling low, you’ll do anything to feel less alone.

I thought I found a place I could call home. A safe space only I could define. A clear head and commiseration, where feeling low would feel just fine. Oh, how I wanted to climb! But Mt Misery was somewhere I couldn’t find. I can’t see the forest for the trees – I think your summit sits somewhere inside of me that I have yet to find, so I’ll keep searching. Until I can climb, if I can find the time. And when I reach the top I’ll find if I’ll ever not feel alone, or if I’ll ever be happy, or if I’ll ever be allowed to descend.