You don't know anything about my life.
Everything that I've ever said is a lie.
But here's s little piece of the truth.

Once a month I wake up with a black eye or swollen lip.
300 days a year I cry myself to sleep.
6 days a week I have to fight myself to get out of bed.
5 times a day I talk to myself.
364 days a year things seem better in my mind than in real life.

3 days a year I feel I'm worth something to somebody an life is worth living.
1 hour a week I do something that brings me joy.
1 hour a week I get to ALMOST be myself.
1 day a year people accually see me.
But every day I feel I'm wasting my life on something unimportant, letting it slip away, watching in go past me while I stand and watch, empty, taking one step closer to the end each day.

But hey, don't worry bout me. I'll be okay. I'll survive.
I allways will