In small steps you're treading backwards
Not completely, yet mostly
Things you wanted, you don't
Things you thought were right, weren't
You worked so hard to get here

Still torn between black and white
Grey doesn't exist
and if it does
its way too fucked up to involve yourself in it

Why weren't we all born as cats?
I'd rather the long naps and dull stares
I didn't fucking sign up for this

When you're outside of the looking glass
It's crazy what you might find.
Sound sleep. Meaningful relationships.

The creak of the bed frame reminds me of braces.
You're trapped but it's not in the worst way.
The worst is the excuses.
You find different ways of being alone.

The explaining of "no really, it's not you. It's me."
And how we've all fucked that up to a point that no one believes it.
We've got to learn to balance our time.
I've got to learn to balance my time.

XVII

Little flecks of pink, shattered across the bed sheet
This is exactly why you just can't figure it out.
Your stomach is an orchestra that takes away your breath
Sometimes you're convinced this is what was supposed to happen
You just must have forgotten to plan for it.

All these signals, all of these goddamn signals,
and a cup of earl grey keeps the medicine away.
Just like you're sure she felt at least once before,
you think of your mother often.
What is it like to summon your demons?

Do you think you can wash it all away with a spoon full of sugar?
Asking questions you don't care to know the answers to.
You came here again, without thinking too much
and now here you are, thinking too much.
There's always the question of why and when you will leave again.
Wondering if this time it will be on your own accord...

It's always something dramatic.
Something that pushes you to the point of no control
Your limbs start to feel as heavy as your eyelids
and suddenly you sink.
Back when you were a kid you always looked at those people,
those people that are exactly as you are now.
You wondered often what lead them to this...
"Most likely to move far away" but somehow "Most likely to fuck it all up"
seems more accurate.

The pain in your chest isn't enough to fill your hollow heart.
You're speaking words that have no meaning just to pay your rent.
Every request followed by an unsatisfied "for sure."
If you're anything, it's unsure.

The alarm sounds and you race to your living room.
One more way they keep you in line.
"This shouldn't be normal" you just keep repeating in your head.
"This shouldn't be normal" "This shouldn't be normal"
until you realize you're speaking it out loud.
"This shouldn't be normal" "This shouldn't be normal"
"This isn't normal"