As a writer, it's what I need. I need the quiet, and I need the calm, so I can hear and understand the chaos in my own head.
Make your own kind of music. Sing your own special song. Make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along.
Every night, It's like I put a gun to my head, pull the trigger, and let everything from inside spew freely onto that page.
"No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be faded, to telling only lies." I feel like no one knows me--the real me. The me I keep hidden, buried, afraid to let free. Afraid… Continue reading Things I Could Never Say