Don't care what people think of me,
Only care what my friends think,
Because I think so highly of them all,
I trust and admire them so,
But when they assume the worst of how I will react,
It really hurts because thats not how I would at all,
So it shows how they see me,
And I wonder,
How much a b***h do they think I am?
Then I think, If this is how they see me,
Why do I care what they think when what they think of me is wrong?
I go to see an old friend,
One I hadn't seen in a while...My silver,
Take it out of the draw,
Unwrap it,
Then that wonderful rush of relief comes over me,
Not much... But enough,
The I think of my painful Saviour...
Yes, I'll do that too...
Once again I'm going to start my attempt to waste away,
My fear is not much but enough for me to constantly be thinking of it,
Want not to consume it,
Get it out of my body,
It will be essayer now,
Ways to hide it...
Tomorrow I will start,
Things to hide...
*How I feel to wards my friends right now...
*My new scars...
*My painful Saviour...
*My attempt to waste away...
*My rotting heart in general...
So in the morning I'll put my make-up on and a fake smile, Ready to disguise myself to the world all over again...
