Thank you Twenty One Pilots for all you've done for the broken people.
You've cured some of the ones who have tried their suicidal session.
You've shown us that you know what it feels like to suffer.
You've told us that the hardest nights will get brighter when the sun comes up, and we can try again.
You've been a friend when we've needed one the most.
You've described the destructive thoughts as metaphors that we can find hope from.
You've combined ukulele music with screamo and made it art.
You've given us lyrics to find the motivation to keep going.
You've told us to stay alive, so that's what we do.
Stay alive |-/

Would you use this scalpel
as I'd tell you to?
Would you dig a hole
in my veins?

In this instance, right away, now
please, get this disease out of me,
you will hear no sirens,
you'll only see the tears running.

In this instance, right away, now
please, understand that the hands
of my mind have turned violent.
They shake me up and bend me
until saliva meets bone
and all I've eaten for dinner today
is "fresh air",
smells of petrichor,
oh how can my mind not adore
temporary starvation?

Please!
Realise I do not want this,
I do not want to die...
But the doubts and fears
in my head continously multiply.

Desperation meets bone,
my current body is no home,
not like any "home" I've known,
and I wish I could "move out"
but I'm stuck in this skin...
please plant some seeds into me..

And then...
Use this scalpel
as I tell you to,
confiscate my blade,
make me stay,

And then I will remain.





maybe someday i'm going to wake up
and someday maybe i'll feel okay
and maybe it won't be tomorrow
but maybe that hope of someday
will be the hope that keeps me here

he told me we weren't afraid to die
we wouldn't
not if we believed in heaven
and i'm trying so hard to believe right now

and they say your life
flashes before your eyes
but all i can see is the water
getting closer and closer

i wanted to die, i wanted to die
all until i stepped into the air
then the river no longer welcomed me
and fear flooded my veins

i wanted to die
but when i reached death
i didn't

There's nothing between you and that ledge.
I'm telling you now, there's not.
It's seven more inches of empty space filled with despair and anguish.
But there is something else that I will tell you.
After that ledge, there's a drop.
Yards upon yards of regret leading into an empty blackhole, for that is what you will become.
A blackhole in someone's memories, you will become a raging storm, swallowing their memories of you up and leaving nothing but the empty space of regret, regret, regret.
So no, there is nothing between you and the legde, but perhaps someone else's future lays over the edge.