Sometimes I like to think I'll be okay, I'll survive all of this inner turmoil.
Then most days I don't want to wake up, I don't want to be me.
I want to slit my wrists and fade away. Nobody will miss me, nobody will mourn.
At least that's what happens in my head. The reality of it all, I'm broken.
I'm I'll, no cure for mental diseases. There is no hope for me. Maybe a change of scenery will make everything brighter, or at least provide enough distraction to forget I hate my life.
I'm in love but this depression is a cancer that never gotta away.