  Reality is what you want to see It shouldn't make a difference to me I put my trust in what you had to say It didn't make a difference anyway Reality is different for me My eyes are openend wide enought to see I've listened to your explanations why The more you fail, the harder that I try "Dissapointed" - Face 2 Face What is being out of touch with reality? Isn't reality subjective anyhow? My reality will never be yours. It can't be. So who are you, who are we to judge what another deems to be true? Is that what it all is anyway?
And trying to figure out how to mesh our perceptions with everyone elses? I tell everyone about one billionth of the things that constantly run through my mind. Others a little more. I can't. It's too much. They'll think I'm crazy.
I can't explain. I don't know what people think of me. It's too much to be me sometimes. If only my feelings and my demeanor didn't come off so trite. I can't verbalize how my inside feels. When I hear myself trying to explain things to others it sounds so wrong wrong, so contrived, so overanyalzed.
But that's not it. I can't explain how my insides feel. It's definitely more than just a cognitive thing. I FEEL it. Everywhere. In my limbs, all over my boyd the sadness sweeps.
And I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if it can be stopped. I feel like so many of friends think I'm exaggerating or it's not as dramatic as I make it seem. And maybe it's not. I just don't think I'm supposed to feel like this. At least not all the time.
There's no joy in me. Can you conceive of infinity? That's what it's like trying to imagine another person's experience of the world. I'll never feel again Then I won't have to feel the pain I'm in If it sounds familiar Because nothing goes the way I plan If it sounds peculiar Then you don't have to try to understand 
