Adventure, Music, Monsters & Demons

I really want to talk about the good things. 

The new things going on in my life. Things that I’ve been lucky to experience lately. Days like this, days where I can be out and about, around people who inspire me. People who can relate, be aware of my crazy, and still put up with me. People who will go on random little adventures with me. Or, take me on little conquests. Believe me, there are new things. Crazy amazing things.

 Drawing awesome sauce creations, with chalk, a new friend, and ducks.  So many ducks.

Having complete strangers get infected artistically by what we were doing, jumping on the chalk wagon, and talking about music and dream concerts. 

Seeing a guy I knew for about two minutes, booty dance in a pair the shortest shorts I have ever seen.

Lettuce on pizza with no sauce, cheese, or toppings. It was just dough. It tasted like air, but you know what? It didn’t bother me that much, because it was part of the great adventure I was on.  Everything was great, I had fun. 

So, why is it so easy for one of my many demons to take it all away?

The little bastard discretely nibbled and chewed little bites off of my nerves throughout the day. It poked at me, it yelled at me, it made me feel bad about myself. I did my best to ignore it. I needed to just enjoy the adventure. Once the adventure ended, it took it’s final bite, chewed up every positive emotion I managed to hang onto for the day, and spit them out. As if my good mood tasted bad. As if the monster was offended that I was doing a little better. It couldn’t stand that I was happy, it couldn’t just let it go. I’ve known for a while, just how relentless this particular demon is, but it’s slightly more frustrating now.  This one does that. It complicates everything just to make me feel like lashing out. I cannot bring myself to lash out on this demon. No. Instead, I feel the need to lash out on myself. This demon, this ugly, heartless, life restraining monster, it doesn’t make me feel like hurting it. It doesn’t it make me feel like hurting others. It makes me feel like taking a razor blade across my skin, over and over again until I can’t feel feelings anymore. It makes me angry to see my own reflection in the mirror. It makes me feel like if I don’t make it happy, if I don’t just do what it wants, I’m nothing. I’m nothing without it. 

I tried so hard to hang onto the good stuff today. So, damn, hard. Thank God for good thoughts and memories. I will always have this day. Just like I will always have all my other good days. Only now, I’m infuriated with myself, and I’m fighting off the urge to cry my eyes out and scream. I have to think about the good things later, because I’m a pathetic puppet, hanging on strings, dancing for one of my own controlling demons. The fire is all on the inside, and it hurts. Only, I can’t let it out, because if I do, I will destroy myself in one way or another.  I ran from the monster, almost as far as I could go. I thought cutting the strings would be so much easier, but so far, it hasn’t been. I’m really ashamed of myself, I’m supposed to be doing better. My life isn’t just off track….it’s a thousand feet away from track, going in the opposite direction. 

“I don't know where to begin, to make these words take shape,
How to nurture a flame, and raise it to a blaze
That on the clearest night can be seen forever.
I don't know where to begin, or begin again.”

That’s ‘A Fire On a Hill’ by Hands like Houses. Amazing band, amazing song. That part of the song is how I feel like by life right now. I’m supposed to be starting over, and the people around me are helping me with that process. That makes everything slightly better. At least I’m not alone, and I know I’m not alone.  So, it’s very frustrating feeling lonely, because it makes me feel like I’m hurting people. That’s not my intention at all, but all the clutter floating around in my head, it’s getting me all mixed up. I don’t want to give up, I don’t want to go back to the monster. Only, I feel like it will happen, and I can’t even lie, it scares the Hell out of me. 

“Bring me home in a blinding dream
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again”

That’s ‘Castle Of Class’ By Linkin Park. One of my favorites since their album, Hybrid Theory. That’s my favorite part of the song, it was before I even had a reason for it to be my favorite part. Now, I know. I’m craving guidance. I need help, I do. However, in my mind, anybody who tries to guide me, and help me, will just walk away. They will leave angry, they will leave frustrated, and I wouldn’t blame them a bit. 

Anxiety 101

Anxiety is like that mini heart attack you get when you slip on ice. Only, it lasts for a lot longer. Sometimes, it’s consistent, and stays with you for hours. Even days.  Anxiety is a cruel monster. A hybrid of your high school bully, and the ghosts of every insecurity of memories passed. A reminder of your memories from the past, whispering in your ear about things that you shouldn‘t have to think about anymore. It’s almost like having a song stuck in your head, only, the lyrics are repetitive on a disturbing level, and the voices can’t sing well. 

I’ve always been a strong believer that the ‘what if’ questions are a killer. I probably always will be, but I’m also a huge hypocrite. I ask those questions more often than not, and I’m ashamed. Those questions invade my thoughts on a daily basis, and trust me, I wish that I could help that, but I can’t. It always shocks me, how some people think that Anxiety is just something that you can turn off. It’s a real illness, I promise. One that makes itself comfortable inside of your brain. Like a house guest that won’t leave. It sits in the back of your head, forcing you to think about things that most people don’t. Mostly, those ‘what if’ questions, and irrational fears. Like, one of my irrational fears keeps me from ice skating. I’m afraid that if I fall, somebody will skate over my hands, and cut my fingers off. Yes, I’m totally aware of that would most likely never happen, but I haven’t ice skated since I was about ten years old. Another one is, that I’ll swallow a quarter the flat way, and it will cut off my air. It’s so ridiculous, because I would never put a quarter in my mouth. Why would I need to? I know that, yet I still have that fear. See, and it all because, one of my sweet little demons, went to a forbidden spot in my brain, and pushed my panic button. The good news is, I’m aware that those fears don’t make much sense. Also, I’d rather skate on a board than the ice, and snacking on currency isn’t my thing. 

When you have this problem, mixed with some others, being alive becomes a challenge. It takes everything out of place. Like, the past is in present, the present isn’t really happening, and the future isn’t there. It’s not easy to function with that. It effects everything you do, say, or think about. People you spend time around will eventually stop giving you the time of day. Mainly because,  they can’t handle your crazy. Which is understandable I guess, some people just can’t handle things. Only, when it angers people, that’s when I can’t help but wish I had a giant turtle shell to hide in. I say sorry for a lot of things, on a daily basis. It’s a coping thing. So when people yell at me for that, or yell at me in general, I shut down. Tough love isn’t useful in my mind. More often than not, reassurance that I’m fine is pretty effective. I don’t know if that’s just me, but I feel like others with the same issues probably feel the same way.  

When I was out the other night, I wanted to crawl out of my skin for a little while. It was on and off the entire time I was out. Only, lucky for me and my nerves, I was with people that made me comfortable. When that’s the case, being in public doesn’t hurt so much. Being alive doesn’t feel so wrong. 

I don’t know, I’m ending this on a weird spot, because go figure….I’m anxious.

Just a small town girl, living inside of her head.

If only rooms with padded walls looked like dreams. It wouldn't be so bad, right? I've heard depression described as drowning, but never dying. That makes more sense to me than it should, it's so accurate. I've always liked to swim, so it seems like I wouldn't mind being suspended in a body of water, for a long period of time. However, I have to admit, twenty some odd years is a long time to be swimming. I know, it's not really water. Instead of my lungs filling with water, it's doubt, shame, anxiety and last but not least, all my lovely little demons. The angry little monsters that reside inside of my head, reminding me on a daily basis that life doesn't need me. It feels like they're dancing on my cerebrum, and oh my God, I don't think I have ever once used that word before. Anyways, if I'm right, that's the part of the brain that controls memory. 

My memories come and go pretty frequently, it's very frustrating. When lost memories come back, it's aggressive. Like being punched in the brain with a fist full of fuck you. Excuse my language, but that's what it feels like. It's all part of the emotional roller coaster that is post traumatic stress. Incase you're wondering, there's no height requirement for this ride, and you will vomit. 
Every day is worse than the last. It's not the company I keep, because I'm not anywhere near the people that chewed me up and spit me out. It's not my environment, I'm not in the wonderful world of Western New York anymore. Don't take that seriously, because I took the word wonderful, and dipped it in a huge glass of sarcasm. I guess I'm just done. The things I was good at, the things that used to save me from myself, they're a thing of the past now. My camera used to be my best friend, but I am no longer able to do any favors for the art of photography.  

Writing was always a good outlet. Obviously, it still can be at times. I have this blog. Sadly, it's all that remains. Song lyrics, poems, screenplays, I stopped all of it. It felt like I was ruining something. It was the same feeling with my acting, and my music. I actually think I remember when I decided to kill my music. I was in the middle of writing lyrics, and they mentioned something about playing my veins like violin strings, with a razor blade. Super morbid, I know. I wouldn't recommend having a self harm addiction to my worst enemy. It's like having your demons on the outside. Anyways, I remember looking at those words, and wanting to cry. I probably did, because it had nothing to do with the rest of the song. It was just a random damn thought that I had, and it was scary. So yes, I'm a coward and I ran away from my own music. 

I'm an artistic disaster for sure, I've claimed that proudly for a long time. Only, you can be an artist and suck really badly at it. Turns out my photos are super generic, and my writing is that of a twelve year olds. Luckily, the person that pointed that out hates my blog. Their eyes are saved from this entry, yay! I didn't plan on updating, but I needed something to do. I am antsy, I can't sleep, and the demons are having a dance party in my head. Their music must have lots of bass, because my head hurts so bad, that I can't see straight. That's my cue I suppose. 

Smile, you're on fake face camera! ☻

"You obviously don't suffer much from your mental illness since you smile in photos all the time."

I didn't know how to respond when that comment was made, so I just apologized. The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Are people with demons supposed to wear a sign? I mean, I've got them. I thought the scars all over my arms made that pretty clear. I'm not mad at the comment, it just doesn't make sense to me. 

A smile is like a blanket, it covers things that you don't want exposed. Regardless of what it is. In my case, more often than not, my smile covers the fact that I have absolutely no idea what's going on around me. I'll just be honest, there are boxes of dirt smarter then I am. That combined with me being stuck in my own head all time distracts me from everything. I'm happy that I can't see my own face when people are talking to about things. I probably look so damn clueless. That's how my demons work. If their not running around my brain, they're throwing confetti made out of anxiety and self hatred. 

People wear all sorts of masks. Some people frown all the time. Others are just neutral. I chose the smile mask because when my facial expression matches how I feel, it tends to piss people off. I don't like putting people in moods like that, it's mean. 

I guess the main reason why I'm so confused by the comment is the meaning. If you really think that a person doesn't have issues just because they have happiness plastered across their face....please think again. There's a saying for this situation. 

"I laugh to keep from crying."

There you go. It's weird, it seems like people think depression can be switched on and off. Hey, if you have the ability to do that, I am sincerely impressed. Just know, not all of us have that luxury. I'm saying that there aren't real smiles. Some are genuinely there for a positive reason. 

As for the smiling in pictures thing, I don't always do it. Typically, when I choose not to smile, people get negative about it. But I was a photographer, which is a form of art and expression. There's a reason why there is something Emotive Photography. So whether or not a person is smiling in a photo or not, maybe they're just trying to express something. 

I guess you can't please everybody, but right now, I feel like removing my mouth and putting it in my pocket.

Dreams, Nightmares & Music ♫

When a person thinks of life as a whole, the possibilities are endless. Endless in a way that seems almost impossible, positive and negative thoughts alike. 

Life scares me a little more then death, I have to admit that. When I think of my life as it stands for me right now, I shut down. Not because of how defeated I feel, or because of how much pain I'm in. It's because there are so many different thoughts running through my head on a daily basis. Way too many, and not only does it make my head hurt, it makes it spin. 

It's like being stuck on the flying swings at an amusement park. Spinning round and round, trapped in between up above and down below. Going absolutely nowhere. While you're on the cycle, you can hear everything going on around you, but you can't hear it clearly. You can see things in the distance, but you can't really figure out what they are, because you're not still long enough to see it clearly. You wish more than anything you could hold somebody's hand, but all the hands available are out of reach. So close, yet just far enough away, that is mocks the comfort you're desperate to feel.

My life is just so surreal to me at this point. Sometimes it feels like one long dream, other times, a never ending nightmare. There are even times I have to laugh, because it feels like a practical joke that won’t end. It's ironic really, because it shouldn't be funny. I guess me laughing about it is more out of frustration than it is humor. The demons I hear in my head on a daily basis are constantly whispering in my ears about how the good memories will fade. I try so hard to hold onto those, and the memories that have impacted my life in good ways. Memories involving music, love, and beauty. Friends, bonds with people, and just overall happiness. It's so hard to hold onto, because the whispers about the bad things get louder and louder every single day. Some of the thoughts in my head are terrifying. I can't even begin to explain the feeling I get when I'm just sitting, and thinking, and scary thoughts start eating away at me, and they don't let up. Thoughts about people I love getting hurt in these horrible ways. Thoughts about what people that dislike me would do to me. I think about things that I have seen, things that I might see. Things that I probably never will see, but still I can't get the images out of mind. It just makes me wish that I could go numb for years at a time. Or even forever. There are times when I wake up, and get upset. I get angry, and frustrated that I woke up at all. I lay there, and I cry. It's become somewhat of a routine. To most people, that probably sounds like such a sad and pathetic fact. To me, it's just confusing. I think the amount of hatred I have for myself has a lot to do with it. Mostly, it's the desire I have to sleep and just be gone for a while. I don't miss the nightmares, reoccurring or not. The night terrors, I would gladly wave goodbye to. The dreams....oh my God, the dreams, they don't happen often enough. When they do, I get lost them. It's almost like getting lost in a song. I cry more when I wake up from something like that, it's hard not to. It's damn near impossible for me. I also cry more when I go to sleep knowing that I won't wake up, and I do. It breaks my heart in a way that I don't even think I can explain. Especially when one of the good dreams is floating around inside my head. 

There's a song called 'The Neighbourhood' by Female Robbery, great song. The lyrics just make so much sense to me, but listening to it is like being inside of a deep sleep. It's not a dream, but it's not a nightmare. It's a bittersweet universe to be in. Confusion plays a major part with how you feel, and it's almost like you're learning all these secrets about yourself and about life, but you can't tell anybody. Not just because it's a secret, but because you don't think anybody could possibly ever understand what you're trying to explain. I don't think that's what the lyrics are attempting to get across, that's just the scenario that runs through my head when I hear that song. 

Then, there are songs like 'Last Hope' by Paramore. It's so real, the lyrics are like a person in your life that understands how you feel, and knows what to say. It's beautiful, songs like that are kind of rare, and its shame that more people don't seek them out. It gives you peace of mind for five minutes. Or, five minutes and ten seconds if we're being specific. 

♫"Every night I try my best to dream, tomorrow makes it better. Then I wake up the cold reality that not a thing has changed."♫

That is my favorite part of the song, it's just true, and they are words that I can relate to so quickly. 

Life without music would be truly tragic. Even if it never existed and we wouldn't know anything different, I think I’d still know. I think there would be a noticeable void in my own existence. I know I wouldn't be alive today without the gift of music, that's a fact for sure. Some people relate to animals better. Even nature, and objects, much better then they relate to other people. I think music is that thing for me. I get that it's created by people, and that it exists because of people. Only, the songs themselves, the lyrics, the voices, all turn it into something much different. Something much more significant. All I know is that, I'm hanging on by very few threads these days. I'm almost sure that the demons will end up taking me out before anything else does. Those threads, they're music, and that's something I trust more than anything. I know some people might think it's sad that I trust music more than anything or anybody else, but it's the truth. I think it's beautiful, and I always will. Even if I don't live to see next year, I had something beautiful to hang onto up until the very end. That means the world to me, and I couldn't ask to go out on a note anymore perfect than that. 

Life, Death & Perfection

 I think about silencing myself sometimes. It would hurt a lot, but I think that it would be worth it. I talk too much, and I know how much it annoys people. When I speak, it helps people to realize just how much they don't need me in their lives. It hurts, but not enough to make me angry. I'm not strong, but I am understanding. More often than not, people avoid me, but I get it. I'm too much on so many different levels. I'm not exactly proud of that, but I'm not ashamed either. I'm happy that I can recognize that. People like to think that I can’t tell when I’m boring them, but I can. Some had to teach me how to see it, but now I can tell when people are humoring me. It happens a lot more often that I ever wanted to believe. So, why even  say anything at all? Now, I just feel dumb when I talk about things. Yeah, it has a lot to do with low self esteem, but it also has a lot to do with people being fake. The fakeness, it’s like this mask that people wear, it’s a wall they hide behind. Instead of being honest, they’d rather spare your feelings by pretending to want you around. I understand why people do that, but I think that there are people who abuse it. I  can hear the confusion, hate, disgust, and most of all humor, in people’s tones when I speak. Sometimes, I can hear the very moment when a person stops listening, and blocks me out. So, there are times right before I go to sleep, when I think about getting needle and thread, and sewing my lips closed. Yes, it’s morbid, but I’d be doing myself, and so many others a favor.

 To you, it may look painful, but when I found this, it made me smile. To me, this is beautiful. I can’t help but wonder about that person. Real or fake, a statement is being made here. Maybe they feel the same way I do, maybe they feel guilty about the words that come out of their mouth. Maybe their mouth often got them into trouble, maybe they were tired of hearing their own voice. Or maybe they just wanted to know how it felt. Whatever the reason….I’m happy that I found this. I get happy when I find new things, even if it’s just a random photo. Like the needle and thread one. Or a picture of places like this.

 I don’t know where that is, but I don’t need to. It looks like the perfect place. For life, for death, for anything.  There could be anything beyond that fog, and I don’t think I would hesitate to find out. I’d walk slow, but I’d still go right on through. True, I don’t know for sure what I would find, but I know what I would want to find. Somewhere to sit, a place where I could very comfortably fall and stay asleep. A place that smells like Egyptian Musk. 

 Yes. This is perfection. Warm water, candles. As awkward as it would be, this tub, in that place would be pure magic. The moment would mean nothing without something to listen to. A song to hear, one that flows like warm wind through the air. A song that fit’s the atmosphere. 

 A song like this. It’s calm, it breathes….and it’s beautiful. Just like that place. It would be the perfect setting to say goodbye. To close my eyes, and take my very last breathes. Everything would just melt away, piece by piece. 

 See, I have these tiny little demons inside my head. True, they’re tiny but they don’t exactly tread lightly, and they work fast. They run around inside my head, so fast and so often that they’re making it damn near impossible to use all my emotions anymore. My excitement towards things is almost totally gone. There are exciting things happening around me, and I’m happy, but I’m not excited. I’m proud, but I’m not excited. I know how it sounds, I do. It sounds as if I don’t care about others being happy, and having lives to be proud of. That’s not the case, not at all. The people I love, and care about will always make me happy in some way or another. I will always be happy for the good things they get out of life, that will never change. The thing is, it’s nobody’s fault but my own that certain feelings of mine are being taken over by the mind numbing little demons that are taking over my mind. I’m not strong enough to handle real life, and I’m not about to pin that on somebody else. 

 You know, some people don’t believe that depression is real. They think it’s some made up thing, created by weak people who feel sorry for themselves, and pin all of their problems on others. Well….to each their own opinion. Each and every one of us is a different person. A person with opinions of our own. However, I will never agree with the small minded view. The small minded view that just because one person handles life their way, that it will work for everybody else around them. Depression is a disease, and diseases kill. I don’t feel sorry for myself, I genuinely hate myself. I don’t blame my issues on other people. My sadness and heartbreak is just a part of me that happens to be stronger than other parts of me. Some people in this world are just sad, and don’t want to be alive. That’s just how some people happen to be. It's a fact. It maybe sad, it may hurt, but it's real. Just because others don’t really understand that feeling, doesn’t mean they have to be mean, and judgmental about it, but they always will be. That’s how other people are. Again, we’re all different. Understanding should be part of that difference, but it’s not. People will forever lash out against what’s different. There will always be people in this world who feel like it’s normal to insult, and judge those who are so different, that they don’t understand. These are people that will never grasp a certain concept. That just because they don’t understand or agree with something, they have to destroy and insult it. That to me…it’s painful. I don’t like how that makes me feel. So, when I feel like escaping to a world where, my mouth is sewn shut, and I’m dying in a bathtub, in the middle of a colorful little foggy world….I’ll do that. Because in my mind, that’s just better. It hurts less, and it’s just better than the real things. People will read my words, and study my thoughts, and they will automatically assume that I’m negative towards life. If that’s how it seems to people, fine. Everybody is allowed to have their own thoughts. I don’t believe that my thoughts towards death are all negative. Death scares me, but it also gives me this overwhelming feeling of a peace that lasts forever and ever. I should probably hide most of the things that I feel, I know that I should. This world isn’t mature enough to handle some of the thoughts that people have these days. It’s just how it happens to be now, you know?  My honesty will always turn most people against me, and it hurts, but it’s real. The real truth is, I’d happily take my very last breath listening to beautiful music, in the middle of a colorful fog, thinking about the few things in life that made me smile more often that not. Accept it, or don’t. You’re allowed to feel however it is that you feel.

Mad World

It’s so ironic that I wish that I was never born, because honestly, I feel like I’m already dead. Morbid, I know but it’s the truth, and at this point, I don’t see any reason to hide it. Most people already know. Whenever I wake up, I get upset. Sleep is almost like being dead, and I like it. The times when I’m ready to sleep, and can’t seem to get there, it’s almost devastating in a way. I think I’ve been freaking people out, and it’s not something I’m proud of. I don’t like doing that to people. I don’t really have that much to live for, so when I do go out and do things, and spend time with people, I get overly excited, and end up feeling really thankful by the end. People don’t like that, but I understand. They don’t get what it is that I go back to once my time with them is over. They don’t live with the same demons that I do, so I don’t bother getting offended when people push me away. I just don’t think it would be fair. My head is in a very scary place, it has been for a long time, and will be until I die. That’s just how it is. So when I apologize to people for being a downer, I’m not just saying that, it’s a genuine apology.  When I apologize for being bothersome, or tell a person that I don’t feel like bothering them, I’m not just saying that. I’m not trying to make anybody feel bad, I’m just being honest, I really do feel bad. People don’t always believe that, but arguing is pointless. Defending my feelings is pointless. I know to a lot of people, having their feelings hurt, or hearing a person’s negative opinion is nothing. That’s alright, to each their own. I’m just not one of those people. I’m sensitive, I take things personally, and I can’t really handle things. I don’t expect people to tip toe around me, and make sure that don’t say anything that I can’t handle. But, I feel like I can’t win with some people, and it makes me feel crazy. Like, when somebody knows that I’m hiding how I really feel, or that I’m holding back on certain things, they get all mad. Even if I vocalize that I’d rather not say what’s on my mind, they push until I do say it. Then I let it out, and get criticized for how I feel. Like I said, with some people, there is no winning. Which is why I think I’d rather just keep my mouth shut and pretend like things people say or do don’t effect me so much. It’s easier. It’s not really less painful, but it is easier, and I’d rather just go with that.

 When I dream about suicide, it always has something to do with somebody’s last words to me. A few people in particular. They say something to me, I don’t say anything back. I take it, run with it, and sometime later, I’m jumping from a rooftop, or swallowing a bunch of pills. Some would see that as morbid, but I don’t. With my state of mind right now, those are the good dreams. I like those dreams, because when I’m dead, nothing hurts anymore. Nobody is making me feel stupid just for being who I am. When I close my eyes, and sleep, and see myself living through this epic pain, that takes my body to a level of Hell that’s hard for anybody else to imagine, and I live through it….those are the nightmares. It’s like the lyrics from “Mad World”.

“And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad. The dreams in which I'm dying, are the best I've ever had.” 

I love that song, and those lyrics are my favorite part of that song. The bitter sweetness of it sends chills down my spine. It’s one of those songs that understands how I feel, one that listens to me, while I listen to it. I don’t care how crazy I sound, when it comes to a song like that, and lyrics like those, my mind goes on a well deserved vacation. In this moment, I can’t help but smile, because I’m writing this, listening to that song, and even the incense that I’m burning has timing like nobody would believe. I’m burning two sticks. One is Lemon, and the other is Vanilla. If that’s not bittersweet, I don’t know what is. That’s how I feel about death. That’s one of my demons. Maybe even two of my demons. Wanting to kill yourself, and being terrified of life after death is not a combination I would wish on anybody. Not even on my worst enemy. It makes me feel crazy, it’s like having a full out war going on inside of my head. Like the Incubus song, Oil and Water.

“You and I are like oil and water. We've been trying, trying, trying Ohh, to mix it up.”

Oh my god, it’s lyrical perfection to me. Just pure understanding of what goes on inside my head. Songs like that are why I trust music more than I trust people. Why I have my headphones in my ears more often than not, why being a musician is such a big part of who I am as a person.  Music has a better understanding of me than even my own family members do. That’s probably the best addiction I have. Sure, the razor blade kisses are the sweetest to me, but music is a drug to me, and I will take that magical little pill anytime, anywhere. When you are a musician, you are a super hero. I don’t care if you’re a rapper, a country singer, a lyricist, you could play nothing but the freaking triangle, it doesn’t matter. You are part of something so special.  I’m pretty sure it was Hayley Williams who said this.

“What motivates me is seeing people in the crowd and wondering what they’re going home to and what they’re dealing with, and knowing that for the being we’re their escape.”

Okay, that right there is why the woman should be wearing damn cape everywhere she goes. That’s the kind of musician I wanted to be. Only now, I’m a huge hypocrite when it comes to that, because I’ll sing to save your life any day, but I will sing not one note to save my own. That is part of why I will never be the kind of musician I wish I could have been. 

For months now I’ve been wanting to just end it. Close my eyes, and never have to open them again. I don’t want to leave the music. In death, I will hear nothing, which means music will no longer be a part of me. People will call me selfish for that, people have. I don’t think it is selfish, but everyone has their own opinion, and that’s alright. Personally, I get upset when people make certain comments about suicide being selfish. Yes, you’re leaving people behind that may or may not love you. Yes, you’re denying future friends and or family the chance to know you. Yes, little children in your life will be confused about why you were here one minute, then suddenly gone. Those are all things to think about, very important things to think about. The thing that bothers me the most about the whole “Selfish” thing is simple. You don’t know what another person’s pain feels like, and you never will, because you will never be that person. God love you for wanting a person you care about to stick around for a bit longer, you’re not wrong for that. However, if you use anger and insults towards a person that wants to end their life, you are only adding fuel to the fire. To me, that is a mistake. That would be like setting fire to a piece of paper and asking “Oh no, why did it burn?” Do you see where I’m going with this? By all means, feel how you want towards this, it is your God given right to be angry if you feel you need to be. Just don’t be surprised when you don’t get the result you expected. That being said, telling a person to “Stop being depressed” is also a mistake in my opinion. Depression is not a light switch, you can’t just turn it off. To me, turning it off would equal shooting yourself in the head. 

“Get over it.”

“Cheer up.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I got through it alright, so you should be fine too.”

People seem to think that those are the magic words to cure a person’s head issues.  Two people in particular stick out in my mind when it comes to those phrases. They were overused on me for the last twenty-six years. When people say those things to me now, I smile on through it, and keep my mouth shut, but on the inside, I’m screaming and beating myself in the head. Yes, there are things you can do to help a person with depression, anxiety, and other disorders. Pretending that the problem isn’t there, and telling them to “Cheer up”….is not going to make the demons go away. Not if the demons are anything like the ones dancing around inside of my head. They’re cruel little things. I wish I could be creative about it, and say that my demons probably look like the little monster in the lamisil commercials, but they don’t. Oh my God, can you imagine? Anyways, I think it’s time for me to stop talking for now. There’s music waiting to be heard, and who am I to ignore the call of pure magic?