"Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty.
* * *
Violet watched Quigley sketching, shading with his fingers, and smiled.
All day
Staring at the ceiling makin'
Friends with shadows on my wall
All night
Hearin' voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good
For something
"Drawing anything in particular?" she asked softly behind his shoulder, making him jump.
Hold on
I'm feeling like I'm headed for a
Breakdown
And I don't know why
"Um, not really." he mumbled, closing his sketchbook and attempting to stuff it out of sight.
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me
But she snatched it off him and flicked it open.
There were charcoals, pencil and a couple with crayons. They were beautiful.
And talking to myself in public
And dodging glances on the train
And I know
I know they've all been talking 'bout me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong
With me
She saw waves at the beach, flowers and blossoms in trees, and . . . Violet.
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow
I've lost my mind
Some of her inventing, others of her expression and body language.
I've been talkin' in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
They'll be taking me away
She smiled and pecked his cheek. He blushed.