Boston "I wish I could say this was a story about how I got on the bus a boy and got off a man more cynical, hardened, and mature and shit. But that’s not true. The truth is I got on the bus a boy. And I never got off the bus. I still haven’t."
Childish Gambino 252 followers / 7.2k words
Rock bottom isn't a place but A state of mind, and Mental illnesses linger in The nooks and crannies of your mind Depression always present Wreaking havoc on your days Anxiety a crippling punishment Filling this life with pain Never sleeping, because the nightmares Have grown to loud at night Eyes open, stare at the ceiling Unsure if you can continue the fight
Broken glass covers the floor The smell of alcohol fills the air Ever since you walked out my door Life has been filled with such despair Best friends forever Turned out to be the sweetest of lies Because broken people are always abandoned It was only a matter of time Before you grew sick of the sadness The endless darkness inside Of me, hopeless, depressed, damaged You didn't even say goodbye
Pleasant surprises never come to me and Pessimism is how I learned to survive So forgive me if I show doubt my darling I haven't felt this happy for a very long time
My hands, they quiver My voice, it shakes My heart, its pounding My head, it aches My friends, they're dead My enemies, in power My life, its passing My death, next hour
The contrast is stunning Taking my breath away Only when I'm so happy do I realize How miserable were the other days Life is always so heavy Weighed down by fear and the past Though things seem so perfect right now I'm terrified they won't last
You asked me where My home was and I explained to you that rainy night That my home wasn't a place but A time in my life When hope was around Faith still here The gun wasn't loaded And I wasn't filled with fear
The man sat on the edge of his bed Staring blankly into the distance An empty bottle shattered somewhere on the floor Cigarette slowly burning between his lips He hasn't shaved for days; he doesn't care anymore Sweatpants and faded t-shirts Too much coffee , not enough sleep In his hand a six shot revolver In his hand, the only chance to be free