#twenty

yeezuss:

reblog with the age you turn in 2017

I do connect with this song. Most people laugh at me when I say music is my only therapy, but I need music or some sound to keep me sane. If it gets silent, I start to think about my life. If I start to think of my life, I start thinking of how shitty it is. When I start thinking about how shitty my life is, I start to think of my future. When I start to think of my future, I see a hopeless failure who has done nothing good with her life. When I start thinking of me being a failure, I start thinking of ending my life now. When I start thinking of ending my own life, I start seeing life as a simple “Live or Die” situation.

Of course, it always ends with me painfully choosing Live because of my friends, but until I choose Live, I think Die. Death. The release. That’s what I think. I think of how no one will miss me. How my family would be happier. How I’ve saved others in the future from pain and anger. I think of how good life would be without me.

But then I think of my close friends. My friends that I laugh with in my PE and English classes, thinking of how my teacher in my Math class is always being friendly with me, probably being one of her favorite students. I think of the girl I like, and how she likes me back, and how she’d miss me more than anything, and maybe even end her own life with me, as she has claimed she’d do. I know the world would be darker without her and the happiness of my friends and teachers. I choose Live.

But still, the effects of thinking of my uselessness and how imperfect I am weighs me down. Pulls me under, to a place I can’t recover. It hurts me permanently.

And that’s why I need my music and my car radio.