The summer flew by and I paid no mind to milestones in my rear view, like missed highway exit signs.

I'll be the first to admit, you're the opposite of a good influence on me. But that'll all be okay if I can just start acting my age for a change. I'll be the first to admit that you're selfish; always wrapped up in what's best for you. Never once gave a thought to what might be better for all the people you claimed that you cared about too, and I'll be the first to admit that I'm jealous of your carefree attitude towards everything I've ever gotten hung up about. So I'm sorry if it's hard for me to focus on your needs when my jacket smells like beer, puke and weed. And I've never been good at fitting into anything so that's what I'm trying hard to do with this scene, so I guess I'll start wearing all black everyday and representing all your favorite bands in every single way. I'll be the first to admit that it's fucked up how you always promote self-hate. Never thought about potential negative consequences until it's too late, and I'm sitting in my room alone trying to find meaning in any of this shit, but try as I might, I just keep drawing up blank. I can be the worst thing that has ever happened to you, if you let me. And I can be responsible, but don't let me. So I'm sorry if it's hard for me to focus on your needs when my jacket smells like beer, puke and weed. And I've never been good at fitting into anything so that's what I'm trying hard to do with this scene, so I guess I'll start wearing all black everyday and representing all your favorite bands in every single way.

Well here I am; for your viewing pleasure and discretion is advised. And I just don't understand why you couldn't follow all the simple instructions I'd laid out for you. I just don't think there's any place I'd rather be than hiding from my parents, sitting underneath my sheets; I've never felt like my life was more complete.

I don't think you know me anymore, but you still think I'm the same person I was five or six years ago. And to a certain extent, you're correct; I'm still just as quick-witted, broken-hearted, and alone. But that does not account for any of the supposed maturity that comes with being almost an adult, but I don't care about any of that. This year everybody got the news that they were dying, and everyone was crying. Except for me, but not because I got lucky; it's just because I'm already dead.

After everything I said to you was in the past, and I had realized that we were both in the wrong we had made our mistakes, but neither of us knew what to do about it. When I got back to my room I thought about all of the things I wish I'd said to you while you were still around, but I had to face the facts; you were long gone and there was nothing I could do about it. You're still just as pretentious as I remember you. It's been two years but you've hardly changed a bit. Every so often, I still lay awake, wondering if I still cross your mind as often as you still cross mine: almost every day. But I'm not even sure why I would ever think of you; I'm pretty sure I hate you. You made my life a living hell for three months straight, and if that's not reason to despise you, then I don't know what is. Don't wanna lose any of the things I love, like this summer, or any of my friends, but if I keep down this path that's what's gonna happen anyways and there's nothing I can do about it. And it's too late to turn back; I've reached the point of no return. So, I might as well just go all-in; I'm never thinking of you again. But I'm not even sure why I would ever think of you; I'm pretty sure I hate you. You made my life a living hell for three months straight, and if that's not reason to despise you, then I don't know what is.

Want all the teeth to fall out of my head so that I can get some perspective on what it's like to be dead. I don't care anymore about all the petty things that drove me out that door. If I wrote down all of the hateful things I wish I'd said to you, the list would span at least three hundred pages. Maybe more, with annotations in the margins that I just know you'd ignore. But I wouldn't be mad; cause you always had a knack for not paying attention. And that's exactly why I've decided not to write anything. Want all the teeth to fall out of my head so that I can get some perspective on what it's like to be dead. I don't care anymore about all the petty things that drove me out that door. (x2)

I found sleep in a brown paper bag. I held on with everything I had. And I know that everything I said misrepresented all the thoughts inside my head. (x3) My whole life flew by, and I paid no mind to milestones in my rear view, like missed highway exit signs. (x2)

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, having just watched my life flash before my eyes. And sometimes I think I'd be better off hidden away from everyone, so no one would have to see all the horrible things I've done. Sometimes I feel like an active volcano, ready to erupt on everyone around me. And sometimes I feel like I'd be better off running away from all of my problems for the rest of my life. And I can't talk to you about anything that I'm going through, cause I don't want to be a burden. Lord knows I've got enough baggage for the both of us; you don't need any of the shit that I've been through. I'm an active volcano ready to erupt on all the unsuspecting civilians, awaiting their deaths. I'm a jack-knifed truck in the middle of the highway, and you're a car careening towards me at an uncontrollable speed.