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?
This sat in my notes forever. I re-wrote it a bunch too. I hope you like it.