"There's nothing like stepping on stage,
into a sold out crowd,
of almost 16,000 people.
What Inpiries me to keep doing this everyday,
is the rush I get on stage...
it's absolutely..irreplaceable.
With almost two years of sobriety,
people think I have my life all together,
but infact, I'm just winging it.
It's easy for people to assume that everythings taken care of,
and that I'm always camera ready,
but I wake up everyday, like everyone else.
I have the same worries, and fears, that everyone does.
 I'm afraid of spiders, and being vulnerable in front of the world.
I'm still facing these obstacles and problems, that everyday people have.
People thought that I've got myself together,
but I'm actually still a working progress."


7. Stages

I swung my leg, back and forth as I sat on the branch of the old oak.

Sitting up in this tree, while watching the sun fall,

Well, it was probably the most amazing view I have ever seen,

but of course, it is also the only view, I had ever seen.

I've never stepped foot outside of this lousy town to be quite honest, and never really had to.

god knows where my parents have been however, not that they really tell me.

some days I'll just wake up and not hear from them for a week or two,

that’s just how it's always been.

and you know some kids whine and go on about how their parents are uptight, or too strict or really clingy, but they don't realise how lucky they are to have that kind of care and protection.

I would do anything for them to notice me, or to at least show compassion towards me,

but nothing seems to work.


when I was 10 I had made my mother a wooden bird, painted different kind of colours, in hopes that I would start a connection with her,

I had found it in the garbage the very next day, soaked in left over food.


when I turned 12, and started hating the world, I had began my obsession with books, and the power it had to possess you into an alternate universe.

and after reading a few colourful novels, and my father telling me I had to clean my room,

I told him to go fuck himself, and that was the first time I had ever used a curse word.


at the age of 13 I was sent to a private school, with longer hours, so that my parents could have more time to themselves. It was filled with dress codes, girls with too much make up, and grabby boys. I had broken a kids nose on the very first day.


By 14, I was already smoking cigarettes, stealing from corner stores, reading piles of books, and trying to be a loud, fun person, it didn't last long, considering that I began to annoy myself, and fell back into my quiet, mysterious self. And after reading a novel, about a girl with depression as well as Dissociative Identity Disorder, I had tried cutting myself.


Then came the magical and my current age of 15, where I spend my time skipping school, or hiding in the library, until the end of the day. As well as more and more self inflicted scars, had began to appear on many parts of my body.



but you know which one of these had caught my parents attention?

if you guess none, then you are correct.


Sometimes I just want to leave this body, and life,

And just be given the chance to start fresh, as a whole different person.

With parents that give a shit about me, and friends that express the same interests as me.

But I know, that could never happen, because we are only given one life to live.

Let’s just say, I’m sick of this town, and the faces in it.









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