Skeletons

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Memoirs

A memoir (; from French mémoire [me.mwaʁ], from Latin memoria 'memory, remembrance') is any nonfiction narrative writing based on the author's personal memories. The assertions made in the work are thus understood to be factual. While memoir has historically been defined as a subcategory of biography or autobiography since the late 20th century, the genre is differentiated in form, presenting a narrowed focus, usually a particular time phase in someone's life or career. A biography or autobiography tells the story "of a life", while a memoir often tells the story of a particular career, event, or time, such as touchstone moments and turning points in the author's life. The author of a memoir may be referred to as a memoirist or a memorialist. more »

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I always say the wrong things
Can't ever convey what I mean
I'm coming apart
I don't know where to start
Have I forgotten what it's like to be me
Still lookin' for my identity

Staring at a glass half-empty
Consequently
I'm such a mess
Clutching my chest is the fear
And I think I've lost it
All of these Skeletons in my closet
Reaching for the door
And I can't hold it closed anymore

Can't recall half of what I've seen
Can't separate what's real from my dreams
And growing older scares the shit out of me
But doing it without you is impossible it seems
I can't do it alone so please don't leave

Staring at a glass half-empty
Consequently
I'm such a mess
Clutching my chest is the fear
And I think I've lost it
All of these Skeletons in my closet
Reaching for the door
And I can't hold it closed anymore

It's getting harder and harder
For me just to ignore it
I don't even know the person that I am anymore and
I don't know who I want to be
Who is that looking back at me
It's getting harder to move
I've got so little left to lose
I don't know who the f*ck I'm trying to prove
With this mascarade
'Cuz I always sucked at charades

I always sucked at charades
I always sucked at charades
I always sucked at charades
I always sucked at charades

Staring at a glass half-empty
Consequently
I'm such a mess
Clutching my chest is the fear
And I think I've lost it
All of these Skeletons in my closet
Reaching for the door
And I can't hold it closed anymore

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