Can't seem to sleep Can't seem to eat Don't want to feel a thing I'm tense and unsure Not knowing where I'm headed Wandering blindly into the dark I need something to carry me through Can't seem to want you Don't want to feel a thing All I crave is just to relax Feel a moment of nothing Not this imbalance of swirling emptiness I need something to take me away Won't you help me Why can't I let it go I'm being consumed Don't want you to know It's all around me Encircling and swarming My thoughts and my memories I don't want you to help me I can fix this Why don't I just Kill my self Don't want to feel a thing Don't want you to know

The longest train ride, missing you more than ever. Blurred thoughts, hazey eyes. Thinking back to when we wrote notes for each other, every moment was so perfect. We thought it would last forever. Give me that feeling back. Give me just one night. Just that chance to hold you the night through. I guess for now I’ll stay awake all night. Stay awake all night. Stay awake all night. I miss it. You. That one thing, the only thing. I can't wait for that moment, picture perfect moment. Give me just one second, just to touch what I'll never own. Let me count those feelings, show me how to feel that way. That one way, the only way. Let me just. Feel you. Your skin so soft, your eyes so deep, like a hidden masterpiece.

I just want to make music. Maybe I just need to feel appreciated. Maybe I’m addicted to appreciation. A junkie just waiting for his next ego boost. Maybe I’m just doing it for me. Maybe it’s my only method of communicating my thoughts and processing all of the fucked up shit. Maybe I’m just selfish and want something to make myself feel accomplishment. It could just all be in my head, I could just be obsessed with making things. It could be all these things. Maybe there’s a void within me that is only filled with music. A void so deep and so claustrophobic. The space that was there, the space that I ripped out of me, because of my low mood. My inability to deal with myself, deal with how other people feel about me. It all came out in an episode of unrelenting sadness, unnecessary rage and hatred for who I was. I nearly killed myself that night. Took as many pills as I could fit in my hand. The dry compounds swelling and dissolving in my mouth. Overcome with what I’d done, I told my Mum. So afraid and so upset. Every night, for a year up until, I slit my wrists because I was incomplete. I was always wrong and needed something to make me feel. You can’t possibly imagine how I feel now. So petty I once was, so bent on feeling adequate. Nothing’s changed. Nothing new here. I’m the same old fucked up human being with an inability to deal with his emotions. The only way I knew how was to not deal with it. Let it swell and boil within me, so I didn’t hurt anyone. I know there is a fire within me, a passion unlike any other that burns so bright when stoked. That fire nearly killed me once and has left me an empty carcass, depressed and unable to express myself except through rhythm and melody. Left feeling everything. Now my Grandfather is dying, dementia desecrating his brain, constraining his ability to talk to me, share in those same joys we used to. He is going to die and I am not okay with it. He doesn’t deserve to have his voice stripped from him for most of his life, and then have his ability to comprehend stripped as well. It’s not fair, I’m not okay. He’s fucking dying and I can’t do anything about it. Every day I can, I spend time with him. Just sitting. Yet, every time I leave, it never feels like enough. It always feels like I haven’t spend enough time, sitting, talking to him. It kills me. I feel so unable to emotionally engage with my life. I’m separated from myself and I cannot fucking deal with it.