You tell me write it out until it heals
Write it out until it heals
And I'm trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals
but I keep stumbling over my words
I keep tripping over my own lips
I keep stuttering
and with every stutter
with every extra syllable
it's an extra hole that I am digging into the chasms of my own heart that I am trying to heal
and I'm trying to tell you that I am trying
but trying isn't making a difference because it's not making anything better.
I keep trying to open up these boxes inside of my own heart that have been kept hidden away for so long
but they are covered in cobwebs and layered with dust
and I am paralyzed at the thought of opening them up
because if the outside is this tainted,
what could possibly be on the inside?

You tell me write it out until it heals
write it out until it heals
and I am trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals
but when I was younger someone once told me that to fill a hole you had to dig a hole somewhere else to get the extra dirt
And I think that's why everything is getting worse and why it's hurting so badly;
I am taking the dirt out of my own hole to fill others with.
I am not willing to empty others or to take the dirt from someone else.
I am not willing to take dirt from somebody else to fill my own hole
and maybe that is my weakness, maybe that is my problem
because I am now surrounded by people who are taking my dirt to fill their own holes.
I keep giving and giving and giving away of myself to fill these other people
except eventually I hit a point where I no longer had any dirt.
And I ran out of dirt.
I ran out of dirt and I have no more within me.
And what happened was that everybody left.
What happened was everybody deserted me because I no longer had any dirt to fill what they needed.
And I was on my own.
I was on my own and I was alone.

You tell me write it out until it heals,
write it out until it heals,
and I am trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals
but with every memory that I grab from that hidden box in my heart
it resurfaces five more memories that I had forgotten about
and I can't bear the weight of it by myself.
I can't bear the weight of what they did to me.
I can't bear this much weight
and I keep closing people out for fear of what they will see inside of this box
because if they look inside the box, I know that they will leave and it will be my own fault.
It will be me who caused them to leave,
it will be me, and I will be the only person to blame when they leave.
I will be the only person to blame when they see these boxes
I will be the only person to blame when they leave me
for who could stand by my side when I have such heavy burdens?
When I have these suitcases of memories and when I have these travel bags of pain that I carry around
who could stand by my side?
Nobody should have to take that on.
Nobody needs to take on
and so I remain untouchable, I remain afraid and alone
And I am not sure if there is any hope that I will ever break this curse.
And so I hide and so I isolate which only makes it so that I don't have to open these boxes.
And when these boxes remain unopened, they remain untouchable,
they remain untouchable and so I myself believed that I am untouchable
that I am not capable of receiving love
that I am not worthy of receiving love
and these memories are drowning me.

You tell me write it out until it heals,
write it out until it heals
and I am trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals