i'm standing from afar watching and waiting for everything to feel normal again. the window is dirty so you can't see me. i'm falling punching the window it breaks, cutting my skin where the scars had once disipeared. this is getting old,dosn't matter where i am there it is. i'm getting tired of you. is this all worth it? i wonder. i'm getting restless take my hand and pull me up from the floor. don't push me back. i hear your lecture as it goes in one ear and out the other."smoking pot is not for you". don't hate me for making mistakes. you call yourself moody i call yourself bitch. what if i told you what i've really done what now. girls arn't the worst thing in the world. unless there you.