This is how they do it in Hollywood.

You lay there in your unmade bed surrounded by unsung love songs because you're too unworthy to write them. You take a few more pills to pass the time and regret every one that sinks to the pit of your stomach, unnoticed and uncared for. You think up a few more excuses for lying to the ones you love and your confessions are lies that you have to force yourself to believe. You pick at your cuticles and destroy the flesh on your wrists then look for a towel to clean up the mess that you're going to remake tomorrow night. You feel like the whole word's watching you when you're completely unknown to the majority of it's inhabitants. You haunt yourself with the fact that you wear your skin like it's too tight and there's nothing you can do to make it fit. You don't count the pills you're taking, you just take them. You know that one day you're going to wake up nonexistant and the sun's going to forget to shine and you're going to miss it and they're going to miss you. And you don't fucking care because right now that's what you want. And you're selfish for thinking that they're not going to cry when you're gone. You're the kind of persn who writes these kinds of things to people who you haven't met yet just because one day they might need it.
Ihatetalkingtomyself.
-BETHY