Everyone thinks I chose psychology as my major because I want to help people
And they're not wrong
But, perhaps almost just as much, I wanted to figure out what type of crazy I am and how to sooth it

Too many nights of my brain flying out the window
Towards every direction there is and isn't
Everywhere but where I need it
Wishing it would crash on the pavement over, and over and over, til there is nothing but darkness
Finally, a restful sleep
Where did that knife come from?
Why am I smiling with a knife in my hand, pointed toward me?
Why am I fantasizing about taking a flying leap from that little window in our apartment
I remember thinking I'd be one with the birds song those few moments in the air

It is only now, years from that scene that I know this will never be my fate
I will never let my life be taken by my own hands.

I am proud, but I am also scared. I can no longer lay in the odd solace of these thoughts when my brain begins eating itself.

And I don't know what to do but live.

And I don't know what to do but live.