Bleeding...

So maybe I should just write,
'Cause there's no one else here to listen, no one else to touch.
And I do need so much to touch, 'cause it feels like the only way I'm able to say everything... or anything.
And maybe this is all just something I´m the only one who can think, so I guess it's nothing but just a lie.
'Cause knowing I'm a borderline and studying what that is can make me understand why people say I'm so strange, so out of place, so out of touch.
This way I couldn't say what was real and what was not.
So maybe I'm not writting, or this note-book doesn't even exist, or anything, or me, or you...
Let it not be true, let you exist.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Am I only hurting you?
It can not be, it can not be.
Why can't my memory erase? Why can't I let go of anything?
And you think so bad of me right now.
Now, now, is it?
I can't erase but it feels like I forgot all I shouldn't.
This is probably just me feeling alucinated, feeling deeply, deeply alone.
And you don't want to be with me 'cause I'm just a crazy alucinated bitch that can make you go back to the ill you.
You make me a horrible person.
I just run, run away and parrish.
So I'm just bad to you from now on.
And yes the world ends.
But maybe it's better that you never understand what this is, so that won't ever hurt like me.
But do you exist? I think you do. Probably i'm the one who doesn't.
I'm not here, so I guess I'm just a bad dream for you.
And in this dream the only thing that's real was the times you said my name in your sleep...
So you will never know that, will you?
Now I'm cold, i'm cold and alone.
And one my best friends was left dead alone. But that's not true, that's not true... 'cause he always knows what to say to make me be real...
I post this 'cause i'm not here, and someone will feel this nd make me believe he's listening while I talk trough these words, and make feel rested in this unreal estranged life that doesn't go off.
I'm tired... I'm feeling ever so tired... let me rest.
Let me lay on you, just for a while, please... ever so please?
Make me erase. Make me erase.
Can it be you here, instead of these damn pills, 'cause pills don't ever feel like you. They feel like my death.
Maybe that's just what I need.
And does it matter anyway? You're never gonna know, 'cause I'm not real. I'm not real, I don't wanna feel.
And stop writting, stop feeling, you defective you.
Defective, defective you.
And it hurts, it hurts so much.
Can you hear me? Can you hear me please?
Don't think bad of me, I just want you to hold me.
Why am I so horrible to you?