Behind Closed Doors

Sometimes I don't understand how I can hate my hometown so much.
 I do feel regret sometimes for not visiting more. It actually makes me feel like a complete ass.

But whenever I go to that town I remember every reason I left it in the first place.
THE PEOPLE
It's not like everyone there is the same. This by no means goes to everyone, but is there something in the water that makes everything you say rude?
It's hard to travel back to a place where people called me fag more than my name.
I hate that word.
People look at me and hate me.
Judged solely on appearance and never given a chance for eighteen years.

Thank you.
Thank you for making me realize I didn't belong here. Without you I wouldn't have found Northern and I would be stuck in that pathetic excuse of a town.
THE PAST
I guess my past has a lot to do with people, but it still is a totally different concept.
Sitting in my room is a very uncomforting feeling.
What happened behind these closed doors formed lifestyle I wish to forget.
A life of hatred. Hate so deep that it's gonna take a lifetime to heal.
Back when everyday was a bad day. A big hopeless trap.
When cuts, bruises, and risk were daily relief from everything.
I guess I felt like I was getting what I deserved, even if it was from myself.
That if people always had a problem with me then I must broken.
And there was no way to fix me.
People forced me to believe things that were never true. Things about myself.
Turning my own thoughts against me. Forming the perfect outcast. Telling me where I belonged.
Giving me no choice.
Behind these closed doors I changed.

And I hope one day, mom, you'll realize why I left.
I wasn't running away. I was protecting your baby.
That town is dead to me because if I was still there I would be dead to it.