Sometimes I feel that I am ruined
    for anything other than self-denial, hatred
        and a million other things
            best left in the silences.


I don't know that you'd ever be able to convince me
    that this is necessary,
        You’ve gone much too far.
            I only know that I spent most of my time
                waiting for you and wondering.


I wanted to wake up next to you
    and watch you breathing.
        Sometimes I can't bear anyone near me,
            for the warmth of them is
                loathsome to me.
                    I always missed you when you were gone.

I'm scared of needing, wanting warmth,
    and other things I’d never had before you
        and don't know how to deal with.
            I’m considering you, and thinking about me, and maybe
                even not trying to hurt me so much anymore.

I am always going to be hopeless
    and faithless and hard.
        I never wanted to call
            and tell you what a bad day I had,
                let's sit down and talk about it, fuck it, it’s over.

You know I'm never going to be rational
    I rebel against the “right” way to be or think...
        that’s what attracted you in the first place.
            I don't stop dreaming, thinking
                or locking myself away with my music and a pen.

Somedays I won't eat or
    there'll be blood in the bathroom
        and I won't want to talk about it
            because I really am trying.

I will still be coping with loathing and insomnia
    and loneliness and innocence and a billion other things
        that wouldn't seem important to anyone else.
            I don't know if I'll ever be able
                to tell you I'm grateful that you left.

I know I really really do (did) love you
    in my own way
        because nothing makes me forget for long.
            And sometimes I return to the bathroom
                To check that the edge is not dull.







22/29/97