It's not that bad

People tell me it's not that bad. How can they be so presumptious to know what I'm feeling and what I'm going through? Maybe my head isn't right and it twists everything into an unrecognizable pile of shit. Now I have to sort through it and make some sense of it. Maybe there are voices in my head telling me everyday that I'm a waste and I deserve to die. Maybe people don't know what the fuck they are saying and should not impose their values and opinions on me. Who are they to give me advice? Do they know about the physical pain that I feel because of all the stored up emotions in my soul? They don't know anything!

Tell me when I'm gonna live again

Tell me when this fear will end

Tell me when I'm gonna feel inside

Tell me when I'll feel alive