quicksand.

i don't think i've ever felt quite like this before.

it's the mute on your violin. don't bother mourning over it.

i'm worried. scared. depressed. apathetic.

every single teenage cliche, and everyone think's it's fine.

the music feels like sandpaper.

family isn't there anymore.

home isn't there anymore.

the floor's falling out from under me. everything and nothing at the same time.

the only person i've ever told is the only person i would trust with my life.

the only time i feel at home is when i'm disturbing the peace with the two of you and an ipod. the rest of the time i feel like a ghost. a brick.

i look pretty sinking.

i thought the music lost it's pixie dust, but i think it's good for another round.

just so long as i blur my eyes and wring my hands together.

i'm scared. i just want it all to end.

i just want it all to end.