But your undecisive mind shows me that
You are "just another girl"
I had the feeling that those looks you gave me were real
What if I ripped your heart apart at the seams
Maybe then you'd know how I feel
But that day will most likely never come for me
And it's just my luck to end up getting stuck
To everything you are
So tonight I'll sit and pick apart your pictures
And overanalyze your words
But the truth is that I've never fallen so hard
It's taking everything in me
Just to forget your sweater so far
I can honestly say
That I never, ever, ever felt this way
Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin
These are the parts of your body
That cause my comatose to begin
I will sleep another day
I don't really need to anyway
What's the point when my dreams are infected
With words you used to say
I will breathe in a moment
As long as I keep my distance
I wouldn't want to go messing anything up
So don't go worrying about me
It's not like I think about this constantly
So maybe I do, but that shouldn't affect
Your life anymore
I knew it the moment you walked into the door
I'll let you get the best of me
Because there's nothing else that I do well
I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker
I guess that's how this one's gonna go I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker
You've got me down on my knees and I proclaim
All hail the heartbreakerI've been thinking a lot about medicine, lately. And I wonder if we are moving in the right direction.
It seems to me like people were born to die. No matter what miracle drug we come up with next, the outcome is still the same. Death is inevitable. So why do we use medicine to prolong the pain of the end?
Our bodies are like cars. Some models will work perfectly for 100,000 miles, some for 200,000. But every car reaches a tipping point where repairing it costs more than the car is worth. The engine blows. As soon as that is fixed the transmission goes. Then the radiator, the brakes, etc, etc, etc. The human body does the same thing. Only our reaction to the breakdown is different.
Retirement homes are filled with elderly people,
many of whom are at least mildly depressed, who are kept alive by a virtual cocktail of prescriptions. They forget who they are, where they are, who we are, but we keep them alive. Why?
I'm not suggesting euthanasia. I am suggesting allowing people to go when it is their time to go. Maybe, instead of trying to make our short lives longer, we should just try to make them better.
On a related note, there was an interesting article on MSN:
Antidepressants May Up Risk for Attempted, Not Completed, Suicide
Currently listening to:
Sunsets & Car Crashes
by The Spill Canvas