Senses Fail - Lifeboats

All lyrics are ©2010 Senses Fail

I just want to feel alive, and love myself from the in and the outside. 

'Cause every time that I start to feel whole, I knock myself on the ground because it's all that I've known.

Just like the streets burn a hole through your shoe, my soul has been worn out too.

I'm 25 and I still don't fit in, directionless, like a blind main painting.

[Chorus]

Mother I'm so sorry, I can't go on like this, the lifeboats are leaving with or without me.

What's the point of falling in love if I don't love myself? 

What's the point of being alive if all I want is out?

So I thought that it only feels right, to make the decisions that endanger my life.

Late late at night under black and blue moons, I question the reasons that I self-abuse.

I'm so pathetic, it makes me sick. I'm a fingerless pianist.
I see reflections, I clench my fists. I'm a violin without the strings.

[Chorus]

There is no love, there's only this: just lust and lies and selfishness.

A black hole where the sun once was. I'm never falling back in love,

'cause it has never been enough.

Ever since I've been a young boy I was alone. Now that I've become a man, the feeling's grown.

Through the therapy and through the pills, I can't let go. But what about the fucking fact:

I'm still alone?!

What do you do when you've got nothing left? Give up, give up! And hope for the best.

I fell into the ocean, I and I feel sick, waiting on a nameless rescue ship.

What do you do when you've got nothing left? Give up, give up! And hope for the best.

I fell into the ocean, I and I feel sick, waiting on a nameless rescue ship.

[Chorus]

Oh, just a correction.

Terin's not dead. Long story. I was going to write something bigger here but honestly I can't remember, so I guess I'll just randomly babble until I get too bored to keep typing.

So, here goes nothing. I'm bored. Work is boring, really boring. It used to be bearable, now it's not. I'm bored of like all my video games (impossible!) and there is nothing else I really want to play (might try Fallout: New Vegas when it comes out, but who fucking cares). I'm slowly getting back into reading but nyeh, I don't really know of any books that are in my taste that I don't have or haven't read. Music, I rarely get a chance to listen to it anymore. I've got days of music I've never even heard sitting on my hard drive. I'm procrastinating obscenely into getting back into school. I'm painfully broke. I'm agitated beyond all reasonable levels. Everything sets me off. I'm virtually friendless. WHINE WHINE WHINE.

/rant

What to write, what to write...

It would be a serious understatement to say I haven't been thinking about writing for hours. For some odd reason, today has just been one of those days, where you just need to jot down what's going through your head and cross your fingers no one overreacts (again). My one bane of writing is every single time it gets serious, someone freaks. And I am so, so tired of people overreacting to my over-exaggerations. With that said, I believe it's time to get into some sticky shit.

I miss a lot of people. Whether dead or alive, a significant number of people have left my life, generally through my own doing, yet I'm not willing to take the first step and get them back. I want to, but at the same time I don't. There's a hole in my life, something I can fill with whatever I want instead of the obligations of a stressful friendship that had its years years ago, y'know? I also don't really know how to reach out to them... we can make plans, but things fall apart and never go through. Maybe my old friends are just that; old. But there's no one new to replace them, and I'm left alone, wishing I could go back and change things. I've always been wishing for change, I'm just so bad at bringing it.

There's also something I really need to get off of my chest. It's become increasingly apparent to me that I hate when people tell stories. Well, I guess I really should clarify. I cannot stand when those I truly care about talk about certain things. I just get this awful pit in my chest, I feel shaky and sick, and I have to resist every urge to leap off the nearest tall object. I hate when those I care about tell stories about their friends, and the great times they had, and I'm jealous because all my stories are as outdated as my wardrobe, and they've got friends they can tell stories about and I only have the friends I'm with to tell stories about. I'm going to assume you can imagine why I can't tell stories to these people, seeing as all my stories happen with them. Guess I just explained it anyways. Stories of friends aren't all that bother me. There are two others. Let's go in order.

First off, I absolutely cannot stand hearing drug-use stories from those I care about. A vast majority of the people that tell them to me I really don't give a fuck about, but those that do matter give me that same awful feeling at the mention of their trips or highs or drunks or whatever. Unlike friends, I'm not jealous. Whether or not I've done the particular chemical, doesn't change a thing. I've always felt this uncomfortable around the subject, but lately it just seems to be amplified. I've expressed my feelings to those that tell me such stories, but it doesn't stop me from thinking and reliving. I hate the moments and imaginations of the person doing such an act, even though I have no problem with it. If it's not jealousy, what is it? I've described it as 'worry' before but how the fuck can you worry about something that happened months, if not years, ago? It shouldn't bother me as much as it does, I just can't figure it out, and no one has shed the light for me. I wish I could erase the memories that have been told to me, it really eats me up.

The next one; sex. I'm not exactly verbal about this one. Not that sex is an uncomfortable topic for me - far from it, actually. I just ... I can't bear to imagine those I have with someone else in that regard, y'know? Like, I don't want to go to bed with the image of some random person giving you a hand-job or fucking you in the back of their car or whatever. Take a blender to my insides and say you did it while on ecstasy, that'll do the trick. Now, this might be jealousy again, but how can I be jealous of them when I've got you now? I just don't like my overactive imagination. It suited me well as a kid, what with Lego's and the like, but it just causes me too many problems these days. Add my shoddy hearing to that and I can spawn some wild-ass stories.

Lately, I've just been getting more and more panicked. I've got a huge school loan debt, I need to get back into school, I should probably find a therapist, I need to call my old roommate, I need to visit Bellingham, I need to figure my life out, I need a new/second job, I probably need a therapist, I need a fucking break.

It's just about 4am now, good-fucking-night.