I spend most of my time staring at blank pages and listening to a snare on 2&4. I carve cuts into the tips of my fingers and bite nails off out of boredom. I also wonder how I should be living, because something feels wrong. Should I be this sad?

And every adult I have ever met talks of High school as the best years of their life, so what am I doing wrong? I have friends, I have time, I have people who care. So why do I pace up and down alone in an abandoned theater and feel grim under Friday night lights?

I wrote songs about change last year. I wrote songs about getting better. And every single ******* one of them still applies today. Now I just write to cope, and I'm trying to write better, but it's hard when I'm so jumbled. It’s hard when I get scared.

And Daniel told me to draft my work and avoid contentedness, and I trust him and I tried. I was never content. My time is flashing before me and I have the guts to wear a frown. I'm in the "good ol' days" right now, so why aren't they so good?

Catch me
If you can
But I'll still hit
Rock bottom
When it ends

Sometimes I feel like the days just fall
Into each other without any elegance
Sometimes I steal emotions from strangers who seem fit
Sometimes I wish I was better.

The cracking of my skin
And the darkness under my eyes
The life I've let in
And the days I wished I'd die.

I'll search for you in the stars
And learn to fly with these clipped wings
I promise.