It's been awhile since I've felt this depressed. It feels as if I've been carrying an extra twenty pounds of emptiness in my gut, and I can feel my heart in my throat when I swallow. The second I raise my hands to my face, the tears just pour out like an automatic faucet.
Four hours, one plane ride, seven pages of lyrics. Writing helps, so has the mass consumption of Champagne. I'm trying to channel all negative energy creatively, trying to absorb all the positive endorphins around me. Feeling better today, but my bruises have yet a ways to fade.
I never expected to make the Voice. I just kinda hoped to at least make something. I suppose the reason why it even matters is because I felt that if there was a time, the time was now, and now that time is sifting through the crevasses of my fingers. I've been confronted with reality. April 4th, I turn twenty eight. Soon, I won't be considered so young anymore. I don't want to be hustling like this another twenty years down the line. When will I ever be good enough? I feel as if I am doing EVERYTHING that needs to be done. I work sooo hard, will it EVER pay off? I know I have the ability, I just wish I had the opportunity to shine. I want nothing more in life than to make those around me proud. It just all feels like a very slow burn, and I can smell the surface of my skin singeing.