“Crash and burn, all the stars explode tonight. How’d you get so desperate? How’d you stay alive?”

31 07 2012

“Get well soon, please don’t go any higher
How are you so burnt when you’re  barely on fire?”

They say you’ve got to hit rock bottom in order to be a better person. What if you weren’t shit to start with? What if you thought you were okay, but fucks spat down judgment on you..leading you to believe you are actually a really shit person? What do you do? What about when you hide everything in order to keep a sense of normality, so you don’t fully lose it? What if you cannot get the words out, and all you can do is tell anyone who shows a hint of caring that you’re totally okay. What happens when they place you are currently “living” in has killed all the good in you? What if…what if…Fucks sake. It’s all so bloody stupid isn’t it. When you think about it, you’re just some stupid fool with no direction. Because all the directions you took have led you nowhere. Nowhere can be your bedroom at 4am hating your own skin. Nowhere can be sat on a bench waiting for something slightly interesting to happen. Nowhere can be in the eyes of the one you love. Nowhere and nothing go hand in hand. There’s a song for everything, for everyone. Those thoughts you have; well, someone else had the same ones and probably wrote a song about it all. You’ll return to your “normal” self eventually, you just have to work out what that is. I should take my own advice. But my own advice is for anyone and everyone but me. I have no problem writing like this because I know nobody will read it. Once it leaves my brain and ends up on the screen, it is no longer mine. Nothing is mine, no one is mine. I own nothing. Even my Docs are coming apart. My favourite band shirt has a hole in it. As you sink further and further, what song will you play as you fall? What song will pull you back up? I’ll never read this again, which is why none of this will make sense. I rarely re-read what I write here. Mainly because I know it doesn’t make sense. I don’t like organisation. I don’t like things making sense. I don’t like knowing some things. Uncertainty for me, is a good thing. Self-doubt for me, is a good thing.

But every fucking word I’ve written, every word I have ever said has been said by someone else. And they did it better. I can only say I’m sorry, but I’ll keep doing it. And for that, I am also sorry.


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