I could probably help that my hands are cigarette scented and I haven't ate in a week, but why would I ? I'm living the dream, dying beautiful and broken hearted. And these cuts on my wrists have returned to seek their vengeance, but unlike last time, no ones here to save me from them. But maybe thats alright, all I need is a little time, not shelter, I need to be worn so next time I'll be better warned. Is it possible that I'm better off without what I've always want ? Because what I've always wanted is never the same as last week. Every decision I've ever made has a way of coming back and haunting me. I cry every night before I sleep, and upon waking I feel genuinely relieved. Because last night, when I wished I couldn't breathe, I realized that thats just a passing thing. Maybe when I return again, I'll actually follow through, but for right now I'm just waiting for step two.... believing in you.