"And I'm anxious to relieve my mind of desperate thoughts"
I didn't mean to write this.
But I want to, [and feel I have to] honor you. Anyone who's taken the time to speak with me about things that matter, anyone who's written me a letter telling me how what I share and do makes them feel. Anyone who is not afraid to tell me. "This is what I see, this is what you stirred in me"
Because it will never stop surprising me. I will never stop getting that short butterfly-like feeling in my stomach when I see a note saying "Thank you".
It's not why I write these things. I lost the desire for fame very quickly. I just... write these things, as a call. Not to anyone in particular, just to those who can relate-- or might understand. Call it whatever you see to fit it. It's a call. A question.
If you've been weathered, beaten, overwhelmed... if you wear scars on your legs and wrists, if you've been sexually abused, isolated, screaming inside, violated,