The Reason

Words flit through my mind. Things I want to say-want to write-but can't bring myself to in the company of others. I've always wanted to be one of those people who doesn't give a shit about what people think, but I do. Not nearly as much as some people, but enough to keep things bottled inside, only escaping though lines drawn on my skin with the touch of cool metal. Thoughts and feelings that desperately scream "I NEED HELP!", only to be silenced.

Sometimes, pain needs to be real, to be physical, so that it can be dealt with. Sometimes, pain and longing and insecurity need to be dealt with in a way other than blue ink on blue-lined paper, or a couple of guitar chords and a pretty voice. Sometimes, it needs to just fucking hurt, so that I can scream and cry and get it all out.

It's not all the time. And it's not always deep. It's only when that 'rock-bottom-I'm-a-failure-and-will-never-get-anywhere' feeling sinks in, and seeps in and takes over my bones. And sometimes, I tilter on that edge, and only one thing can pull me away.

"I can see now that all of these clouds are following me on my desperate endeavor to find my whoever." (All Time Low, "Remembering Sunday")