my brain is a shooting range
where synapses and neurons
fire downrange
resulting in all these tear-soaked pages
where i chronicle
in great detail
the pain of my human condition

maybe that's angsty and over dramatic
i feel like that's one of my bad habits
but i try not to lie
(especially to myself)
and i don't want to glamorize
(that's good for no one's mental health)
so i slit the wrists of my emotions
and bleed out words and thoughts and notions
in the desperate hope that maybe
- just maybe -
someone out there who reads this will understand me

because my experiences are mine and mine alone
but that doesn't mean no one else has ever known
the way i feel and my innermost thoughts
and maybe even captured those feelings in snapshots
in the same way that i go about
putting pen to paper to chronicle this fallout

and there is something so magical about those connections
and knowing you're not alone, even in endless dimensions
so thank you, my darling, my friend,
for sharing your soul with me
and showing me how to truly live free
of the fetters and chains of societal expectations
so i can strive to be my best self and shrug off their predilections