You Don't Know

You don't know what it's like to want to rip your stomach out. To want to crush it under a heavy boot, just because it's doing the things it's supposed to. It digests food you don't eat, it flips and turns when you're nervous, and it fills to the brim when angered. You don't know what it's like to to want to crush your own head in your hands for just the little things. Because you were thinking, because you were lieing, because you were being a manipulative bastard again, it just isn't as wonderful as you thought it would be ... To live and to love, to cry and to die. You make friends only to lose them and you climb to the top only to have everything taken from you. That natural high of having everything, of having absolutely nothing and being happy with it. You don't know what it's like to treasure the small things, to only have the small things, and just when you thought the small things were enough... They're gone. Someone just doesn't want to see you happy. I lie, and I cry, and I'll eventually die. But when my head is pounding so hard that I can't hear or think. And when my heart is beating so fast against my lungs, I can't breathe. And when one little mistake can suddenly affect everything around me, it hurts... It really, really hurts...