I pitch verbal wars with myself, and I don't put up a good fight. Man you've really fucked up this time, I'll tell my self. But it's not so bad. I'll lower my head in reply, common don't beat your-self up. But man you just really are useless and can't even really figure things out, can you? Things fall apart. Things aren't right. It will all work out, I'll climb out of this rock that holds me and binds me to my crazy. God, you are naïve. You are a fuck without chance of happiness in life. Common' that's bullshit; there are lots of things that can happen, even tomorrow. Shit, you should just do it. I couldn't do it. Could I? Could you? Should I? Maybe just a little cut would be enough. Man, I've got to get out of here.