but i'm not much in the mood to complain. but i find i dont much care. you dont fucking know whats best for me. your not my mother. so dont pretend like you want to be my best friend and run your fingers through my hair and talk like you know whats best. dont try to convince me to talk. because i'd rather tell my foot than tell you. but you sit next to me with your mask of support. im standing right before you and your eyes have never before sent a clearer message: please, let me hear about you. and then lets get to the part about me. i dont feel like talking to anyone, but i feel like talking. i want to go to bed, but i dont feel like sleeping. i want to see a movie, but i dont feel like going. i want to be dead but i dont feel like dying. i guess i just want to be alive, but i dont feel like living. dont even bother. you've ruined your chances. so pout those american idol lips, and plead with your puppy dog eyes, do all you can to convince me to give you another chance. hand me the gun, baby, and i'll give you another chance.