There's not much to it this time,
No extraordinary story, no witty rhyme,
Come tomorrow, you won't care,
Alive or dead, this won't be in your head.
That's only as natural as natural goes,
And I would never think to hold it against you.

But let's pretend that tonight I died...
(Knock on wood.)
Lying still in my bed, and barely alive.
As I take my last breath, my life will flash before my eyes.
I'm pretty sure I'll be left behind,
Because of what a lame life I have lived.

I played games with hearts and I've broken my friends.
Then, I lied my ass off 'til the bitter end.
I was never ever a crutch for my mother,
I left my brother.
And couldn't comprehend when my father needed me the most.
I left every one of them waiting out in the cold,
With my baggage, not theirs, to hold.

I let the Devil get to me,
And forgot my God was still there for me.
I drank into the night,
Then smoked into the morning,
And left him alone in his bed tossing and turning.
I never walked the shame because I cheated that game.

There was no "true love."
Hell, there wasn't a first.
I faked my way through relationships,
Forgetting the ones I hurt.
I've loved the body, not the "man."
Loved the muscle tone and loved his hands.
I loved a girl, but in a way
That erased every feeling in my heart
Until that menacing and unbearable day.

I've been shallow, selfish, and mean.
Not to mention stupid, bitchy, and jealous.
(But I prided myself on never letting the truth be perverted.)
So what I have to write shouldn't matter to you at all.
Just words on some paper,
Written by the dumb girl next door.
Those who still care, I applaud your allegiance,
But in the end, I write for myself.

And that's the one thing,
--the one thing--
I can love about myself.

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