Park Ranger

This is the last time I'll pity you for falling into your own traps
You were always good at poaching, setting it all up in advance
Then walking into them on purpose, as if you wanted to
As if the only thing that kept you breathing was the pain

Could you buy yourself some time if you walked away
Maybe that would keep the demons at bay
If you listened to that voice that told you,
This time you don't need to walk into the trap
This time don't let the jaws slam down on you
And immobilize you

I used to uphold your comfort zone
Where you could curl up and tend to your wounds
Where you told me this time you would heal
I could only see it was a lie on the bandages you threw out
And left like a trail behind you
Stained with blood and sweet deceit

If everything's really that dark why do you stay around
Why do you let yourself be hit and raped
Why do you stand the jealousy and the abuse
Why don't you just take your car and drive
And go far, far from where you are

There's nothing that roots you to the spot or commands you
Nothing but that old shiny bear trap that you made yourself
And you walk into it time after time after time
How can you even believe things will be different this time
Or that you'll be treated like you should because there's a ring
On your finger that you didn't have to pay

I used to say you were the most wonderful girl in the world
The most wonderful girl who just made the most foolish decisions
But you've surpassed all that as you don't even answer anymore
And you probably blame me for not calling although you never pick up
Blame me for living the life I wanted for myself and forgetting about you

How can you think things like that, with what we had together
In the comfort zone where there was just you and me
Against the world and against everyone that hated us
I could never forget you, hell, even with these words I'm writing
I'm worrying about you
Even though the connection is old by now I can still feel it sometimes
And instinctively know when something's wrong
And something is wrong here
Even more than it usually is
Maybe you walked into your final trap
And this is the first one you couldn't get out of again
This is the first time you wouldn't heal up again properly
Inbetween your self-inflicted wounds

How should I know what's happened
The link is old and doesn't tell me things
Like it used to
How could I resurrect the zone of comfort
When it was a long time since I last pitied you
For your own mistakes
Maybe I'm selfish
Maybe I'm inhuman
But I can't feel for you anymore
Not when you set this up yourself
Don't you know how much it hurts to watch
I can't be your park ranger
You're outside the park now by far
And other rules are valid there
Rules I can't control

You were always good at poaching
I can only hope you had enough sense
To not set them all off yourself
To leave one, only one
For who's chasing you

Gatekeeper

Maybe the downfall is just what I need

The downfall into thoughts and doubt

Maybe it can help me break the blocks

Of rock that pile up ahead

And make everything seem impossible

Maybe I could harvest that power

And turn it into something useful

For unforeseen situations

Maybe I decided on the wrong color

For the paint that breaks into dry flakes

On my walls and become like chains

Telling me who to be, how to react

Why would I need a makeover

To fit into your every twisting need

To transform myself, and dance along to your music

Dressed in the colors you chose for me

Why should I tone myself down

Lower my voice so my whispers won't disturb you

When I just wanted to speak my mind,

Regardless if anyone was listening

I prefer not to conform to what you might want

And not to respond to your every wish

There are greater things than the trivial and daily

I want to be there, for when it happens

Pack my every brown paper bag

And drag them on the train

Maybe I'll go when the sun's out

Maybe I'll go when it rains

I tire of you and your grasp on me

I defeated you once, and more

Isn't that enough for you

Aren't there others you can possess

So your voice can be driven out of my mind

I want to welcome the light, the underwater dream

But you always come back to block me, to stop me

Maybe all you want is to be taken down again

Is there a thrill in the downfall

A thrill in the fall

Maybe I could harvest that power of yours

And turn it into something useful

For unforeseen situations

Maybe I could manage to imprison you

Instead of always trying to kill the immortal

Would it be impossible for a prisoner to turn the table

And switch places with the one who put me here

Maybe if I did that I would stand a chance

And maybe it would be your turn to tire, of me

I can't even say that I fully hate you

Without your hold on me I wouldn't write these words

I wouldn't be able to create other worlds

Is that why you are still around

To work in the silence

To enable the gates to stay open

To make me the gatekeeper

To visualize the keys

Jewels

I've felt strangely wary for a few days, since around Wednesday, a wariness that won't seem to let go of me. I'm aching to create, to write, to paint, to do anything, and still it's like I can't settle down and focus on it, as if my mind is somewhere else. I think I can easily pinpoint my writer's block - a combination of lack of time, and lack of ideas. Also, I have this big idea that everything I write have to come out awesome right away, or it's crap writing, an idea I have to work with getting rid of. It hasn't helped any of my novels to think in these ways and I'm aware of that. So how come it's so hard to get rid of the thoughts now?


To get back in prose I tried a few different things. One was opening my oldest novel for editing, which it needs anyway, but after spending some hours on it I suddenly felt it wasn't worth my time. I then started to look again at Ophelia, which I feel is the best novel I've written, and stumbled upon the draft of its sequel in the folder. It was pretty good. Even though I always felt Ophelia doesn't need a sequel, and never was meant to have one, it might work well to get me back into writing. Ella waits patiently. She is my little jewel. She'll wait until I'm ready for her.


As long as I'm not writing prose, I might as well be writing something. I got a poem written down earlier that's been in my head for a few days and that's at least something.


I'll be off now to check what food I can manage to find in my kitchen and also to possibly check back in on Jake and Madden.
POET IN THE JAR

Shining Letters

There's an overwhelming sadness in me
That not even your laughter can drive away
It came from the depths where I had deported it
Returned from where I had banned it
That sadness and that pain

It spreads through my heart and my eyes
And forces me to see the world
In a different way
It tells me this is the naked truth
I must trust and follow
It tells me all my smiles are worthless
What do they mean, at the end of the day
When the shadows appear out of nowhere

Can you hunt down your demons with light
And turn them into defenseless things
Can you chase away the sadness
And all the tow it brings
Is that why you always leave the light on

When I wake from a faceless dream
And the contours of the room aren't still
What good will it do me with light
What will be changed
If the room
Is kept bright

I was always told to forget about things that have been
To shun away what I've seen in my dreams
How do I explain that I dream in the day
And that the past just isn't willing to go away

Can you hunt down your demons with light

And turn them into defenseless things

Can you chase away the sadness

And all the tow it brings

Is that why you always leave the light on

Can the smoke in this room become the air that I breathe

Can everything be tiring, everything I see

Maybe the words were right, the words that stood out

In shining letters

Maybe this is really how dark things are

And you can never get rid of the undertone

You can never really reach for bliss

Not even when ignorant, like this

So take your comfort in your muse

And cling to it in the darkness

Use it to channel the subconscious

Into images and words

Isn't that how it was always done

Isn't that how it will always be done

Can you deny that once it's gone

When it's gone and you realize you miss it

You miss the demons

Without the demons you aren't alive

And they were right when they said

You lost the meaning of your smiles

Head First

How did I manage to drown my own optimism
Drown my waterfall, that I carefully built
Out of dreamscapes and more fragile hopes
Than was allowed to exist
How did I manage
How did I achieve

When did I chain myself to the ground
And sink myself into the river
With cement blocks on my feet
I couldn't even move
I couldn't even breathe

Your words all made sense
It couldn't be the things you said
And your thoughts were rational
Parts of my own suppressed ones
So why suddenly did I take a turn for the worse
And dive into the darkness, head first

Was it the only thing I had to cling on to
The only remnant I had of a muse
When all my other canals had dried up

Although by now I am chained to the ground
I haven't given up on the dreams that I found
And I know there could be more sinister things
I just need to save up for stronger wings

Drown yourself in self pity and desertion
Maybe that way you could run away
And all the problems that surrounded you
Will magically disappear, with the snap of your fingers
But didn't anyone tell you
It doesn't work that way

As long as you won't face what's ahead
And as long as you don't brace yourself
Against the truth
You won't last
And I won't last,
with you

Wound Up

It's been so hectic all day that I can't even be exhausted. I'm all wound up and I can't really get myself to relax. I don't really understand how I managed to time everything so badly and stress myself up about things, but at this point I guess I shouldn't be getting surprised anymore. Luckily, in the middle of all this stress, there's a couple of good news. For one, I found some missing files that I thought I'd lost, meaning I can hand in files for the project deadline that I thought wouldn't get assessed. That's good. Secondly, I handed in the keys for my old apartment today, and that's really a big weight that's off my shoulders. Even though somewhere inside I worry that they'll call me up and complain about insufficient cleaning, it's still good to know that I'll never have to live in the old place anymore. Even living here now, in the middle of a freaking war zone of cardboard boxes, it's still better than being split up in two different places or kind of leasing someone else's space for a while. As with all my apartments this one calls for a name and I knew directly it would be called The Lagoon. 


Moving on.


We're officially done with the game project but also we're thrown directly into the next course which, too, is pretty exhausting. We don't do much else but watch movies and attend lectures all day, but that's just the problem, there's just no time to do the actual assignments. But we'll figure it out somehow, I just wish there was more individual work involved. No offense, but... after the project you kind of don't want to be dependent on your groupmates, for once.


That's all for now since I'm in a stressed period of complete writer's block. I'm hoping to pick up an editing project quite soon to take my mind off things and that just might get me back on track again. I sure hope it will for the sake of Ella, who is currently just lying around in the drawer not being written and being quite bored.


THAT'S ALL, FOLKS
POET IN THE JAR

Glorious Stress and Other Things

Things are stressed like hell, the final presentation of our game is on Friday, and I have to pack my entire apartment during the weekend and miss school on Monday in order to move to the new place, while Monday is the day when our new courses start and we have to have the game and all the other reports and stuff sent in by Wednesday at the latest. It's hard to focus on anything really, when my mind is flying like this, I just can't concentrate on the slightest thing... also I am worried sick, not only for the friends of the family that I got news about yesterday, but worried sick because I seem to have lost my touch with writing. There's just nothing there, nothing at all, no ideas, no stories, no poems, there's nothing, everything I write sounds completely off... perhaps the first real case of writer's block that I've ever really experienced. It's not so much the time that's passed as that I have to force it, and when I do I'm not happy with how it sounds. I wonder to myself, when did I become so critical of my own things? I keep returning to the thought that rewriting one of my old novels for publishing purposes would be the best way to go about it. The poetry is fine, or theoretically at least. I can always force at least a couple of lines of that... but I miss prose, and I miss being so into it that everything else ceases to exist. Is this what happens when your focus is relocated to the visual media? Why in that case, has it never affected me this way before? The way it used to be, I used to find novelling a necessary escape, and a relief, even, from the real world, but now it just feels like it's another burden, and not even writing stories seems to be fun anymore.


My bet is that once the stress is lowered, around some time next week, and I get installed into my new place, the juices will start flowing and I really hope that is what's going to happen. We'll see. I don't really have the time to think very much about it (which probably is a sign of stress itself).


Either way, even writing these ranting entries at least keeps the language working, so you might be looking at a lot of these posts for a while, but it doesn't really matter since I'm not really writing them for your sake (you'll have to excuse me) and therefore you don't have to bother reading them. Just keep an eye out for some real material once that gets up here again.


Too much things on my mind...


Something cool though is that two of the promotional assignments I made for the game got chosen to represent it. Surprising but happily surprising. 


I really should be writing the log book or the report rather than this.
POET IN THE JAR

Clashes & Crashes

You were intimidated when your thoughts strayed

And decided to come and go as they wish

You tried to clear your mind,

but everything clashed, in violence

Everything crashed

And you couldn't control the images flashing by

Or choose what they'd remind you of

The faint nuances in that old song
That could only be read by you
They could only be read by you

They said it would take a while,
to clear your thoughts
That it would take a couple of battles
To win the war
You don't think they've ever been in your mind
Or known what it's like

Isn't it glorious to be misunderstood
And alone in your pain
Isn't it more grand and epic that way
Isn't it?
The way you've shielded yourself
And consciously torn away from everything

Everything that crashed

Time Flies

Tomorrow is Monday again, and there's loads of stuff coming up. It feels like time really flies by right now. On Wednesday there's the graphics session after school followed by friends performing at the pub. Thursday is the deadline for our individual assignments and Friday the unofficial deadline for the game. Saturday I'll be driving home to attend a dinner with old friends and Sunday I might visit my niece. By the end of this week it'll already be March 13th which is fucking halfway to April. May will be here sooner than I'll know, and I'll be arranging to move out, and it'll already be halfway to summer. Finally...


I managed to trade myself a working weekend in two weeks and that'll hopefully earn me a little extra money. I'll need it if I'm going to have money for the summer and to be able to do some of those things that I'd really wanna do. A bit of bad timing, perhaps, cause it's the last weekend before our final presentation, but hopefully it won't affect school. We'll see about that.


It's been a good weekend otherwise, had a nice time partying and whatnot, being around friends and people from our year. It's different here, much better and more fun than last time I studied when I didn't have time or took the effort to hang out with anyone really. I'm sure my years here will turn out awesome. And hopefully this happy sort of mood will follow me into the rest of the week, cause I know what I'm like and that my mood usually changes more often than I breathe, but hey, let's hope for it, anyhow.


I have a few ideas for that writing competition by now and think I can make something of it, but still haven't decided. The deadline isn't until May so I've still got time to crack that one.


Oh and I hope the Dark Tower will be kept standing.
POET IN THE happee JAR

Artificial Light

I'm listening to Shinedown and thinking about things, just got off the phone with Mum. She always manages to make me feel better about things. I had a rather weird headache attack earlier that freaked me out a little bit, but it's all settled down by now. I guess it was a stress thing. Stressing out about things that I don't even need to stress out about, really. I guess I just need to get it through my thick head what my priorities are actually about, and, maybe even more importantly, what they're not about.


Even the man in the moon disappeared, somewhere in the stratosphere...

I try pretty hard telling myself that I'm not affected by the long winter here, but it's getting pretty unbearable. I'm so tired of the cold, of the snow and ice, of the darkness. The sun isn't even out in the day, it's just cloudy and gray, gray, gray. I was thinking maybe to go to a solarium this week or the next, just to get some artificial light and trick my body into thinking it's summer, or something. I've heard spring this year is supposed to begin on March the fifth. I can live with that (if the weather people should happen to be right, for once). And again it is confirmed that I'd rather not spend the winters here in the future, whenever that future might be.


Since it turns out I could get that funding I applied for, I found myself buying the next novel in the Dark Tower series. I'm currently reading Song of Susannah. It's nice to have a novel to read again, and something to fall back on that isn't writing, or games.


Speaking of writing I found a local writing contest I really want to enter, but I'm not sure with what. I'd prefer to enter with some new material, maybe a short story or something. But I think you can submit more than one piece, so I might submit some poetry as well. But I can't really focus on that just yet, as long as we're still doing the game project.


I really gotta kick that up again soon though.
POET IN THE JAR

Delicate

Do you know how many times I thought I'd just let the car crash
Into the side of the mountain on the other side of that rail
Or how many times I stared into the sea
Wishing it would swallow me
Did you ever consider how much the sea at night
resembles the sky
Just without the stars
Just darker
Vaster

Inviting you

Do you know how tempting it is to listen to the voices
The silent ones, that seem to beckon you
Circling you like vultures that feed on desperation
Every drawn symbol on the gray surface,
disappearing on you

Do you know what it's like

Do you know that someone died that day
And how unbearable grief can be
When that someone was part of you
And had become you
And taken over you

Do you know how many times I had the thought
That it would be so much easier to end it
How many times I wanted to
How many times I tried

Do you know how much it scares me that I did
Do you know how relieved I am, that I didn't
Do you know just how much I rely on you
How delicately I have faith in you
How fragile you are

How I love you

How I love you

Delicately

Jackpot

So, it turned out that I did get that apartment, and I'm moving May 1st, at the latest. If someone's willing to take my dorm room earlier than that, I'll also be able to move earlier, since the new place is available from March 1st. I gave it some thought, and realized that it'll be the sixth time I move in five years. Restless? Not at all. I'm looking forward to it though, since I feel like I could use some change of scenery. And this place, in all its tinyness, is starting to make me wary. It works fine for a while, but if like me you're used to more space, it feels pretty claustrophobic after a while.
I went to the new place a few days ago to check it out, and it really spoke to me. I think I'll enjoy it there. I'm going to the landlord tomorrow to sign the contract, and then it will feel a lot more real, all of a sudden. I'll ask Mum to start putting boxes away already.


Other than that I haven't been doing much besides working with the game project for school, and I haven't had energy to do much else. I've applied for some job in Norway over the summer, hoping I could go there, work in some nice hotel or something, and get to see a new place with new faces and make money at the same time. There are tons of things I'd need to finance, mostly travelling and perhaps fixing up some old tattoos, but it doesn't seem possible at the time. If I land a job in Norway or not, I hope I can get something at all. Finances for the summer will be tough, otherwise.


Off to the world of laundry and games now, until something more creative comes along.
POET IN THE JAR

Modification

No, I'm not here to change man

For I have no desire to be changed

And made into something I never was

Made into a product of mind

That perhaps never was in existence

No, I'm not here for modification

There was a transparency in my words

Although I'd never want to be transformed

There's so many things I'd alter

Should I have the chance

Which is the greater one of us

When both of us wants the other to change

You said you fell in love with perfection

I'm not perfect, in any way

I'm aware of my own selfishness

I thought I'd use these years to dream

Of simplicity, and completion

When we can complete eachother

Without depleting eachother

I'll be at ease

I'll be at ease

Environmental

I just applied for a slightly bigger apartment, crossing my fingers that I'll get it. Somehow I have the feeling that it's exactly what I need, but then again I've moved every time I've gotten this feeling of restlessness. If not else, it's a temporary change of environment that'll hopefully make me feel more at ease with things. The cats sure would need some more space, and so do I... That's really the only problem with this place; that it feels like it's so small that the walls are closing in on me. This apartment is twice as big so it should help. It's also more expensive, but I'm hoping to get that apartment funding that I can hopefully get now that I've paid everything back of the old one I had; and in that case it'll actually be even more cheap than where I live now. We'll see when the landlord calls on Monday, I want to see the place for my own eyes before I accept it, as well as talk it over with Mom.
Well, this made me even more disinclined to clean this place.
Off for decadence now (the kind where you ignore the dishes)
POET IN THE JAR

Twigs

Do the beautiful ones stay awake at night
Do they starve like us
Do they bleed
Where are their thoughts
Are they ever distracted
Do they feel

Beautiful ones, do you ever get sick
Do you ever dwell
Do you have your own version
Of personal hell
Is there any depth
Are you just a shell
Beautiful ones,
Magic tricks

Do the beautiful ones fade
In comparison to us
As they grow old
The beautiful ones
Do they ever mourn
Do they ever worry
Were they all born with sixth senses

Do the beautiful ones stay awake at night

Do they starve like us

Do they bleed

Where are their thoughts

Are they ever distracted

Do they feel

Beautiful ones, are you ever sick

Do you ever dwell

Do you have your own version

Of personal hell

Is there any depth

Are you just a shell

Beautiful ones,

Magic tricks

Will you always be the beautiful ones

Even when age and life has taken its toll

Will you forgive us for tearing you

Unable to bear something so pure

And divine

Will you always be the beautiful ones

Even when we've broken your twigs

And you know there won't be any spring

This year

Beautiful ones, are you always beautiful

Do you ever dwell

Do you have your own version

Of personal hell

Is there any depth

Are you just a shell

Beautiful ones,

Magic tricks

 

You're going to have to forgive us

I'll struggle with the same ordeal

Why is it we can't keep the pure

And let it be free and wild

Why is it we have to enclose it in cages

Or make sure that it dies

And how is it we'll never run out of excuses

Reasons why it had to be done

Why we had to salvage

The beautiful ones

Beautiful ones

Beautiful ones

Daytimers

You've become a representative of hypocrisy
The same ideals that you used to despise
You've been blinded by the temporary
Until everything's been erased
What about all the dreams
And all the thoughts
All your takes on life

And yet you're quick to criticize others
Who didn't fall through with their youth
Who left their old grand plans for dead
You call them imperfect
You're the greatest cynic of all
At the end of the day,
Who was it who discarded their dreams

And you said you'd never turn into one of them
You'd never become proud of the plain
Even the ordinary would be extraordinary
In your world

And everyone would know your name

What did you settle for
The same routines you avoided
And your nocturnal mind traded away
You've become one of the daytimers
Just like every other cog in the system

Forget the times you used to read Lovecraft
And cherish his dark imagery as art
Forget the times you were an individual
That hadn't yet been corrupted
By the moment

Live for the day, you used to say
And now your words don't mean anything anymore
No promises are meaningful
When you decide to desert them
I realize that life changes
But there's a core to things
That shouldn't shift

Yours did
But I won't be warped
Even when there's changes
That I haven't predicted
My mind is different from yours
I won't be warped

Because I'll still remember
Who I used to be
And what I used to read
And whenever those changes
Are about to hit me
I'll still cherish
The same imagery
As before

Horrifics

Listening to Shinedown and trying to be poetic, which doesn't seem to work. My mind is entirely blank. I wonder if that's what happens when you get a couple of days away from school for once. We've studied so much lately that I barely know what to do with a day that I don't have to study, and still I seem to be bored by virtually anything. But what the hell, some music and some writing always helps, and if my mind should keep being blank maybe I should novel rather than keep at it on the poetry side.
Other than that I'm looking forward to Saturday when we're having a back-to-school-party and I plan on getting as drunk as I can possibly get without the whole passing-out-part or the black-holes-where-the-memories-should-be-part. I was tempted to drink tonight but then passed. I've been in such a weird mood all day, pretty depressed for some reason or other, and I wouldn't wanna make it worse. Now I'm eating pineapple directly from the can and trying to withstand the horrific, I'm serious, the horrific meows that Zelda's making. I've booked her an appointment to get sterilized, but since she just entered her heat period thingy apparently we have to wait around a month... and that means there'll be no sleep for me at night for a couple of weeks. It's been a single day and I'm already fucking annoyed.
New course starts on Monday and we'll be doing our first game project, some random game in 2D, it'll be nice. Though with my luck I'll end up in a fucked up group with a fucked up game idea thanks to the designers, no, wait, I'm supposed to try and look at things brightly and sunnily. With my luck, that I make myself, like all the greats do; I'll end up in an awesome group with an awesome game idea. Wish me luck (that I'm supposed to make).

Me and Karo have taken up our poetry project again, and found someone to do the proofreading and stuff for us, so now we just have to find a good way to get it published and most easily available. There are a few alternatives so far. Time to start thinking about an appropriate title, since we seem to have forgotten the suggestions we brought up last time. There's a Swedish site that I know is reliable and good, I'm thinking about possibly putting my novels up there eventually while waiting for that big break or whatever.


I'm still as cynical as ever, as DJ pointed out, but at least things are looking a little up. I just gotta remember that they are and not fall into the same old shit that I used to.
POET IN THE BLANK, YET PONDERING JAR

Whispers

We whispered in the darkness
Does it matter who whispered first
The words still stood out like screams
When written in the night
Like fragile promises,
Despite self-preservation
Despite everything I had taught myself
And everything life taught me
About repossession

You said it was possibe to be reinvented
That I don't have to be limited by old designs
Was that part of your whisper
Inbetween the lines
Or was I just reading lips
Searching for invisible words

We whispered in the darkness
As fleeting shadows on the wall
After the lights had gone out

Will you still be here when I wake
And will you be the same
Remaining unchanged
In the silence, in the night
When the lights have gone out

Will you still whisper to me in the darkness

Silk, Oblivious

You were more appealing before your insight
When it was more important what you saw,
than how you appeared
Now you've framed your eyes perfectly
With charcoal and straightened hair
And to someone who was oblivious
Who didn't know what you used to be like
To someone who didn't know you
You'd be perfect

Is there anything left in those eyes
And are they still amazed at what they see
Is the world more beautiful dressed in silk
Than plainly, like you used to
When there were still strokes of paint
Across your face

Of course I know nothing of your pain
And nothing of what goes through your mind
All I'm implying is you were more appealing
Before your insight
Before you had to try so hard
You don't have to try so hard

Circle of Pretense

You think you're living in a dream, when you aren't
And it's so obvious to me, you're so transparent, and I see
I see everything that you worked so hard to hide
I've seen everything from the inside
And I was there when it all happened
You'll always deny you were thrown off track
How long will denial be there to have your back
It'll surely replace me you see
If you ever counted on me

What does it take to force that smile and that lie
To live in the middle of makebelieve
Maybe I'd accept it if you chose it
See, I live for dreams
But they're a different kind
Well anything goes as long as you survive
If surviving is all there is to life
Can you tell?

I don't mean to ruin your idea of things
Or bring this up after all this time
But it amazes me, how you pretend
All the energy that goes to your image of perfection
When there's no such thing as perfection
Will you be happy living in your bubble
In your perfect little world
Until it cracks
Until it's scratched
And you'll be like a record on repeat
And it's stuck on the same old song
Glitching and scraping

And I have no desire to return, no desire to go back
What would there be left for me, just a black hole
And thousands of reminders
Remember why you made that bubble
Remember that you did it because of that day
And of that trespass, of that betrayal
What hand did I have in it,
Except I happened to be in the way

And everyone covers for you
And everyone's friends with you
And everyone cowers behind you
Afraid that someone might break that bubble
Afraid that someone might blow your cover
They all said they were with me but what happened to that
Now they're all part of the same circle of pretense
And I'm left to myself and to my own defense
Cause if your bubble bursts, so will theirs
They might have to wake up and realize they're in the real world

The real world is much darker than you'd want to know
And that's the reason you're putting on this show
But what's the occasion, for this illusion
I'd rather hate truth than live in a lie
And in the end I'll be the one who can look back
Without regretting things

See I decided to make life about new memories
Rather than dwelling on the old ones
And suddenly life seems to go a little more my way
When I consciously let it
You'll still be blind
While the pain kills you from inside

I'd rather have the truth
Than live like you