My prayer every evening is that I will become excellent at something
Because my outlet can, at times, stutter and fail
I like to write, and I like to think
And sometimes I despise doing both
Because it's impossible to quit thinking
I refuse to turn to drugs to drown out my mind
I will not own more crutches than I already have
My biggest fear is losing control,
So why would I give some other source the option?
Ah, and so I end up writing
It is terribly cathartic and atrociously raw
I pour out my insides and then have this erratic fear
That I have shared too much, too soon
It's like once you post something,
That mental thing becomes true and concrete
I am petrified of the concrete.
But.. I guess I'm also thankful to be alive
Concrete evidence would show I'm still here
-Something- is still here
Strange, but every once in a while I need that reminder
So I keep writing.
I'm still here.