I hate that I get mad over the smallest speck of shit. I hate that my brain prompts my mood to swing into a fit. I'm sorry if I fucked this up again for me and you, emotions burned into my sleeve, I don't know what the fuck to do. An anger grows inside of me, a cancer to my soul. One day it might get too damn big to keep in my control. Then everyone will cut me out, cause what they heard is true: that I'm completely broken and I don't know what the fuck to do. I don’t know what the fuck to do. So what if I pick fights with friends I've known for many years? So what if I scream at my mother, bringing her to tears? So what if I end up alone because I have no clue, that I'm completely broken and I don't know what the fuck to do. Give me loneliness or give me death. I won't stop ‘til I have no friends or family to help me see that I'm own worst enemy. All of this might be too much for you to stick around. Take off without a second word, escape without a sound. Don't wish it on the ones I love but still they pay the price. Might as well keep moving so I guess this is good-bye.