Just played the song and pen and paper happened...
When you try your best, but that smile summoned from a deep-seated place within is all that lays on the surface. You're wearing your best one, dressed up and ready to cheer up those around you with what's really an empty, feigned happiness. When your eyes are stinging from shedding so many tears and from your soul receiving no rest. Because, even when you're tired, so tired that all you want to do is lay your head down, to sleep, but you can not. And your body pains and it's weary, your mind is lacklustre and your speech is forced.
You need fixing.
When you don't want to tread around your words and build up metaphors to get them to comprehend your plight and you choose to rather be quiet, to be still about it. Anxiety is building up in your bloodstream, like iron, and you feel it in climbing into your bones, it's escalating, reaching a crescendo until it collapses to a melancholic state - something they'd call 'depression' in some far away clinic. You've learnt to deal with these bouts of overwhelming underwhelming feelings, they're familiar to you now, natural, they're all part of the package.
When you've got the support of dear loved ones but still, in the trenches of your being, it's not enough.
You need fixing.
When new friends awkwardly fumble about when they learn about your humanness. When they assume a tequila shot or many lined up will resolve the unsettling in the pit of your stomach and all you can do is spew its contents from your gut when it fails, again, to solve anything. When you know about and know of others, many others, who are walking the same, winding and dusty roads as you - you realise the prevalence of it all. What has befallen us? Tears stain our faces. It could be worse. We could be apathetic.
