If I could take the world, and make enough room in it for myself, i’m not entirely sure that I would; But the option would mean the world to me. Im just scared to death of a world outside my own. Any bad thought, or pain I can dream is no bodys fault but my own. I can handle blaming myself. I can handle the war between my head and heart because I am on both sides of the field. But then I think; If I am firing away at myself, in battle between I, and myself, then is there really an incentive to win? Lost in a body of gunpowder, and killing machines.
So maybe I am comfortable losing. Maybe I am a loser. But I can’t let you tell me that. I can’t let the rest of the world see it, Because then I would fit ever so perfectly into itself. I like my own just fine.
The day I broke free.
There was nothing left of me, and that was a beautiful thing.
Full of anger.
Full of hell.
I’ll find my way.
It has been a steady stream downward since you left. The dam is giving way, I can feel the pace of the water growing.
I want to blame you for this. But how can I, when you are the one strong enough to think for yourself.
I somehow have the audacity to let my life be dictated by your death. I can never feel alive if all u think about is your death; so I keep moving, and it’s hell. I hate every bit of it.
Everything is sharp, everything is dangerous. Everything hurts, even the love I freely shared with you, and everyone else I carefully chose.
I miss you.
I love you.
I just want one of those big brother hugs, little brother.
I still can’t stop crying.
you were fucking fifteen.
How do you establish so much sadness like that?
And here I am selfishly letting my life sprial out of control with frustration and depression. Clearly im just not that sad; I havent killed myself.
God damn it, I miss my fucking brother more then anything in the world.
Nothing has shaken me so hard like this.
If you are constantly spiraling downward, and also trying to take the proper steps forward, you are still in the ground; No matter what direction you are moving. Really infuriating putting in so much work in vain.
I’m ready to surface, but I don’t know how.
How easy could it be, coming out of the ground when the world stuffs you in a casket, seals it, and burrys you down six feet.
I’m a fish;
I never knew I could breathe under water till the sadness tried to drown me.
There’s nothing left for me here.
I am pushing myself to so many limits; emotionally/physically/mentally.. I’m burning out.
Never in my life have I let my emotions dictate my days like this. I just have to believe there is so much more, and I want out.
I have to pursue music. It’s all I have, and it’s all I am good at. Im never going to pick a trait that can coax me into a descent career, i am not going to go to college. I make more money now then i ever have and i am more miserable then ever. Money is a necessary tool, but not something i care to invest in. I have one passion, thats it. I don’t care about material things, name brands, or any comfortable living at all; I’ve never been comfortable. I’ve been in and out of broken homes, filled with broken hearts, beating for broken people. People like my own mother want me to fail. Crash and burn so I can be just like her. You would think that after her own son killed himself and her oldest lives as far away from her as possible, she would maybe attempt to at least speak to me properly. Or show up to her own sons funeral sober for that matter.
I have so much to say.
I have what I feel is alot to give.
I just have to write and play;
Get in the fucking van and go.
There’s nothing left.