I don’t get it what do you want from me I can’t give you tips on autonomy being all good things that you ought to be living for your autobiography
underneath your skull is a molten core in a pattern it’s never been before every interaction internalized making subtle changes to your mind
I think you know yourself better than I do (in your mind) I think you know yourself better than I do
Fun is fine but sadness confuses me takes my mind and roughly abuses me spirals into endless contortions that can’t be mine/bend your mind despite the distortion that takes this room of happiness halfway and spends his time establishing pathways that make their way to self-deprecating then again I guess I’d rather leave behind
sometimes I wish I didn’t know myself like I do… (leave it all behind) sometimes I wish I didn’t know myself like I do…