"That's what you get when you let your heart win..."
These past few weeks have been hectic and soul crushing. Robber barons of a century past have swamped my memory and stolen all facsimiles of peace and reverence I might have had and replaced them with ideals of mediocrity and suffering as pleasure.
I'm scared of what might happen and unable to reconcile the idea that anything other than this path I've chosen, or might have had chosen for me, is an option.
White Lines and Red Lights just came on and I got physically sick to my stomach. Why did I let this happen, why again? I want so much out of life, and now I've been stuck, mired down by bad decisions and reckless nights, all for a fucking guy.
He's amazing, and beautiful, and totally broken. His drug use is eating him alive and every lie he tells is killing me. His brother can't save him, I can't save him, no one except he can save him.
"Cause I've burned every bridge I ever built when you were here..."
There's joy and happiness in these last five weeks, insurmountable joy, and I can't even begin to thank those who deserve it, but I also can't help wanting to kill a few others. I wish that all I had from these last five weeks, these 1500 miles, these five concerts, I wish all I had were memories, pictures, and ticket stubs. Black X's to mark age and black eyeliner to stay on par should be my only marks, but instead I have a blackened soul and psyche.
Today, I am 18. I am 18, 17, 16, and 15. I am every step I've ever taken and every step still to be had. Blood runs blue and thin until it hits the air and then it's red and thick. My blood feels like water today.
In fact, the only good thing to come out of these last 38 days is "RiOT!"
I'm scared of what might happen and unable to reconcile the idea that anything other than this path I've chosen, or might have had chosen for me, is an option.
White Lines and Red Lights just came on and I got physically sick to my stomach. Why did I let this happen, why again? I want so much out of life, and now I've been stuck, mired down by bad decisions and reckless nights, all for a fucking guy.
He's amazing, and beautiful, and totally broken. His drug use is eating him alive and every lie he tells is killing me. His brother can't save him, I can't save him, no one except he can save him.
"Cause I've burned every bridge I ever built when you were here..."
There's joy and happiness in these last five weeks, insurmountable joy, and I can't even begin to thank those who deserve it, but I also can't help wanting to kill a few others. I wish that all I had from these last five weeks, these 1500 miles, these five concerts, I wish all I had were memories, pictures, and ticket stubs. Black X's to mark age and black eyeliner to stay on par should be my only marks, but instead I have a blackened soul and psyche.
Today, I am 18. I am 18, 17, 16, and 15. I am every step I've ever taken and every step still to be had. Blood runs blue and thin until it hits the air and then it's red and thick. My blood feels like water today.
In fact, the only good thing to come out of these last 38 days is "RiOT!"