My skin is itching hoping to be put out of its misery. The blades draw me in. I begin. I don't want to. They whisper things, so you have to. Times get harder and the memories get stronger. The ache, claw, and gnaw at the only thing that's keeping you strong. All the blood, pills, and hard nights, are not just another messed up generation. This is real. It's happening. I'm one of them. I will listen. I may not fully understand. So next time they tell you to stand down or give up. Don't. Struggle with me. Hand and hand. Side by side.