I don't know where to go 
I don't know what to do 
Everything seems to fade away. 
Everything doesn't seem logical. 

You don't know me like you should. 
Find someone find anyone, find somebody else. 
I'm tired of trying to be sensible. 
Find someone, find anyone, find somebody else. 

 
I'm feeling too cold, too lost, 
too old to last, to even try anymore. 
I'm just pretending I'm okay. 

I don't know where to go 
I don't know what to do 

 
You don't know me like you should. 
Find someone find anyone, find somebody else. 
I'm tired of trying to be sensible. 
Find someone, find anyone, find somebody else. 
 

I'm feeling too cold, too lost, 
too old to last, to even try anymore. 
I'm just pretending I'm okay.  

Take a look at me now 
Do you even know me now? 
Did you even try? 

Dont even try anymore. 

the ceiling is false;

(or so you think)

unstitch this collar thread,

fight against gravity as you

kick against too-yielding air;

leave yourself for dead.

rage against yourself, rage

because you know that

you don't, as you skip

to the last page.

and finally you know,

through the greyed pain;

the only way out

should've been through

the window.

I'm sorry for wasting your time.

see, who am I, so say that the situation isn't great?

'cause it's my job to make the most of it,

of course I didn't know that it would happen to me.

not that easy,

no.

This really sucks, and it's my own doing. Why do I choose to be sad? I don't know who I am anymore. How could I have changed so much? Am I becoming just another person pretending, presenting different facades in front of different people, just to fit in? I've become a chameleon. It's not me anymore, it's just this skin, this shell I'm hiding in, and I just wish that someone, someone would just care enough to know the real me, my hopes and fears, this stupid immature kid inside who wants to stop being a big boy, to stop being what others want me to be, to make people happy with who I am. For real.

What the hell is the point of all this. None of the people I want to see this actually give enough of a damn to read. Why am I writing this anyway? Catharsis? It's just making me feel worse, and I know that I only feel so down because I want to, because I want to wallow in self-pity, because I don't want to stand up to the challenge.

The Australian speaker had a word for me yesterday. He said that I needed to stand up to what I know I should be doing, that I've already known where I should go, that these troubles are there to strengthen me to carry out God's work, His plan. 

I know he's right, that what God's trying to tell me is just a reminder to stay on the path.

It's right, and I hate it, I hate myself for fighting it.

But I just want to be loved like I am, I want someone to see that my faith and spirit is not as strong as I've been trying to make it seem, I want someone to hug me and tell me that it's okay, that I don't have to fear anymore.

Please.

I'm so afraid.

I don't want to fail anymore.