I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare..

“What the hell is wrong with me, don’t fit in with anybody, how did this happen to me. Wide awake I’m bored and I can’t fall asleep, and every night is the worst night ever..” Simple Plan – I’m Just A Kid.

It’s weird how you remember the songs that accompany you through bad times. Those moments where you’re sat alone in a dark room waiting for the walls to close in. The songs that break through the claustrophobic nights and talk to you.

Recently I’ve found myself opening up and trading stories of the past, apparently the internet’s an incredibly easy place to talk. No inhibitions exist in technology land, who knew? Now don’t worry, I’m not going to go and get all deep and dark on you all, I just think it deserves a mention.

Like most teenagers I had my particularly angsty moments. Those ‘my life sucks’ days and ‘nothing even has a point’ thoughts. Wahoo. An old friend helped me through a lot of it actually, which seems odd now because we don’t really talk anymore. Still feels bizarre to think that someone can have a serious impact on your life and then just leave it without a trace. Huh, feeling a bit of the ole’ nostalgia tonight.

Back then I used to sit and scribble. Or sit and listen. Sit and attempt to write shouty, screamy songs that held no emotion and were really quite shit. God what a stereotype.. Simple Plan had it pretty right though, “nobody cares cause I’m alone and the world is having more fun than me tonight..” (Yes I listen to teenage boy music. What’s your problem?) When you do actually spend every night of your teenage years sat in your room doing sweet FA, life feels pretty shit, not gonna lie. And although it sounds ridiculous now, it really does feel as though nobody else could possibly know how you feel. That’s when I really discovered that music could mean something. That the best kind of music isn’t what’s in the charts, or what your “best friend” is listening to, it’s the kind that sends a little rescue rope to your mind, and pulls you out of that funk.

Anyway, now I just end up rambling to random people at stupid o’clock in the morning, about things that I really shouldn’t be rambling about; you know, the things you wish would just stay hidden, or that you wish had never happened. I’m actually quite a quiet and private person, but when I eventually open up I can talk for a fair while. Sorry. I’m not actually as screwed up as I seem. That might be a lie, I’m just a bit strange. Ask my housemates, they’ll vouch for me.. They may not be the most straightforward of people either, but in a way that makes it easier. I’m not gonna get all sentimental on your arse, but apparently that whole ‘a problem shared..’ malarkey holds some truth. Shocker.

Sorry. I got all deep and stuff. See you when the men in white coats come a-knocking..


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