You Fondle My Trigger, Then You Blame

These Days I Don't Know Who Really Likes Me. I Always Assume Most People Are Bullshitting Me.

When I Was A Kid--10, 11, 12, 13--the Thing I Wanted Most In The World Was A Best Friend. I Wanted To Be Important To People; To Have People That Understood Me. I Wanted To Just Be Close To Somebody. And Back Then, A Thought Would Go Through My Head Almost Constantly: "there's Never Gonna Be A Room Someplace Where There's A Group Of People Sitting Around, Having Fun, Hanging Out, Where One Of Them Goes, 'you Know What Would Be Great? We Should Call Fiona. Yeah, That Would Be Good.' That'll Never Happen. There's Nothing Interesting About Me." I Just Felt Like I Was A Sad Little Boring Thing.

I Keep Living This Day Like The Next Will Never Come.

I Don't Want To Make This Sound Negative At All, But In The Best Way Possible I Freaking Give Up. I Give Up. You Can't Try And Make Your Life Perfect. I'm Just Trying To Have A Good Time, And I'm Just Trying To Appreciate The Things That I Have Around Me. I Give Up On The 'dream' Dream. I Think That It's All A Dream. I Think It's All Wonderful And Terrible. And I Give Up In The Nicest Way.

Hearing My Songs In Public Freaks Me Out A Bit. There Was One Restaurant I Really Liked In L.a., But I Had To Stop Going There When They Started Playing My Music. It Felt Kinda Awkward.