Losing sleep. I'm moved by the way you speak. Losing weight. It's myself I think I hate. Days pass. I didn't know it would become this bad. Now, I'm fucked up again. The winter's gone. The heat's moving in. I'm a wreck. I'm still broke. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to be alone. It's not anything you've done to me. It's the mirror in the bathroom. It's the stains on my teeth. It's myself I think that hates me because I'm not mad. I'm just a little depressed. Sometimes I get upset. I said I'm depressed but it never made a difference. No, it didn't.