No drink you ever drink No cigarette you ever smoke Is going to fill the void you feel It never works More, and more, and more It is never enough It does not work. So, why, do you keep trying? Again, and again, and again... Instead you wake with guilt and the void is bigger the next day so you keep trying to plug that hole but you are just making it bigger... The hole cannot be plugged It must be built up, from the bottom Find your worth, it is down there Find your self-empathy, it is there too Find your confidence, it is not lost Find yourself, it was once discarded with your bottles, down that hole.
Imagine a world in which you lived in a little house in the middle of the woods -- an itty bitty cabin with creature comforts and small necessities, and paper and ink and tables and chairs -- in it you slept and wept and dreamt, and would walk and walk never finding anywhere else... always returning to your teeny front door.
The cabin sits in silence, in semi-darkness most of the day -- the path of the sun moves l a n g u i d l y through the sky and the neighboring trees cast puddles of shade.
You wish for companionship, though you aren't sure what that means.
Sometimes, along your garden fence you find little bits of paper or tissues or wind-swept bottles butting up against the slats.
The papers have names and bits of stories: of shootings and stabbings and conniving schemers, of donations and creations and family boat-races; and you wonder who these people are, or if the pages are ripped from some book you don't own -- and if the wind blows in toward your tiny little home... mustn't there be a way to get out?
"...and then we get up at the **** crack of dawn, eat cereal for breakfast, take a cool shower to put some pep in our steps, then get in the car and drive around listening to our favorite music until the coffee shop opens."
"And when we've finished our morning coffee and people-watching we walk around town looking at all the crap we want to get when we've saved up enough money for it and then get a slice of pizza or something. You know what happens next? We take our favorite books or whatever and go chill in a hammock that we set up in a corner of the college campus. You want me to bring my guitar so you can listen to the silly ditties I come up with on the spot? Sure. You want to go to a movie? Just say the word."
"I don't really care what we do, as long as we're content. I'm just throwing out ideas."