Learning to let go
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I’m dying inside, lying inside, pretending I’m not just along for the ride.
I’m smiling outside, I’m faking my pride, walking around like there’s nothing to hide.
And there’s so much more to tell too. I’m just not sure how to be honest with you.
My heart breaks, my body shakes and when I try to tell you, my voice quakes.
My eyes can see that it’s really just me, unable to let go and actually be free.
Trapped inside of this beautiful mind, trying to pretend I’m not one of a kind.
I know the things I want from you, but I can’t have them until I face what’s true.
Until I’m actually ready to start over some day.
Which all sounds good until it’s time to pay.
Then it’s easy to go back.
Easy to back track.
As if I weren’t able to fight off my own attack.
A one man self destruction crew, same old story, just made to feel new.
Same guy, still trying to fly. Still running in circles, still stuck in a lie.
Still a dreamer, still a believer, still holding on, still born to be a leader.
Yearning to be free. Of the pain, of my brain, of everyday feeling the same.
Looking for escape, for a small break, searching for something other than heartache.
Starving for attention, lost in contention, hoping and praying for a sliver of redemption.
When will it all stop?
When will my life change?
And why does facing the truth always feel so strange?
But it’s not all a lie.
I’ve given at least half a try.
And you know, it kind of feels good inside when I cry.
To feel that release.
To let it all go.
But I always wonder, is it all just for show?
Pretending to be, anything but me.
Holding on to a vision of what used to be.
Holding on to what I want to see, because without the pain, then who would I be?
What then, would be my inspiration, if I was no longer drowning in desperation?
What would I blame if I freed myself from all of this frustration?
And how am I supposed to just pick up the pieces after all this devastation?
What would I write about if I finally found a way to let go of all this self doubt?
What would I use as a muse if I was no longer perpetually confused?
And what if I fall again? Am I finally willing to see this thing through to the end?
How does a man continue to stand in the face of a self imposed backhand.
Trying so hard not to DROWN in a crowd of people who only know how to back down.
Trying to stand up with a weight on my neck that feels like a thousand pounds.
And what do any of these words even mean?
Should I keep them hidden, never to be seen?
After all, I wrote them for me, but maybe this is something you need to see…
Maybe my pain is intended to show,
That deep down inside you already know.
That pretending to be perfect is never the way to go.
That broken is better. That not fitting in is the new trend setter.
To show off the inside of my brain, and then prove to the world that I’m still sane.
And then, just for fun, I’d bet that you feel the same.