With Bravery, and Intense Feeling of Mortality I Bring to You: The Tortured Arist.

I think I am learning what exactly being a 'tortured artist' is.

 Imagine, that everyday something inspires me, and I have all this inspiration and all this potential- and I have no where to put it.

Too young. Too stupid. Too dumb. Too ignorant. Too inexperienced. Too girly, or not enough. Not enough tits or God too much.

So I am forced to try and squish this inextinguishable fire down inside of me and silence the thoughts of pure genius that fill my brain.

And this brings us from inspired, smart, creative, to pressured, stressed, silenced. This, to me, is why many of the best (Gerard Way, Ozzy Osborne, Jimi Hendrix, Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Bert Mackracin, Eminem, etc) do/had used drugs. Every waking moment that you aren't doing something your brain is working a hundred miles an hour, dissecting the world, making songs, poems, books, life summaries, astonishing break throughs', a million ideas, and some times you
Just
Want
Silence.
Drugs hold the ever beautiful front that they will give you this 'peace in the mind' and for awhile it does. But everything is temporary. We learn how to tame our thoughts and focus or minds but it is a constant battle that more times then not we are failing than winning.

 It is amplified for me. I am too young to do anything ground breaking with my life and I sure as hell don't have the money, so I must literally smash, push, shove it down and hope it stays ("And baby when they knock you down and out, it's where you outta stay" -I Don't Love You ) there because you can't take it anymore. It isn't a faint whisper, it is a battle cry, a screech for attention and it is causing you, and me, to suffer. It affects everything. In these moments of inspiration I can't breathe, mind racing, feelings exploding, head spinning, fingers twitching, eyes shut, sitting back clutching a dream I am agonizingly waiting to fulfill. Not a day goes by, not one.

It hurts, it's painful. I would consider myself a 'tortured artist'. There are days, moments, seconds, hours, weeks, months, there are years in which I want to be drunk- high on something. Just get me out of my fucking head because I can't take all this. It's too much to handle, too much, too much.

So what do I do in these times?

I have two choices to pick from, one is to suffer through it, and make it out alive, one more time, or to get high, do something, temporarily numb that burning pain inside.

Most my (conscious) life, I chose option number two.

It was so much easier, so much faster, so much better, so addicting. 

Slitting my wrists, smoking some weed, mooching some cigarettes, stealing some alcohol. Anything. Just get me out.

Lately, I have been choosing option number one.

It hasn't been easy, it has been a absolute fucking war. In the middle of the night, I think of everything, mind racing, the blood under my arms, throbbing. Waiting, anticipating that first incision in my skin. Every scar is there, I can feel them. And the desire is so drastic I am arching my back off the bed while pinning my legs to it. I am literally fighting myself. Walking in circles, gripping my hair, screaming into pillows, clawing, rubbing my arms. Eventually it stops. A lot of times in order to get me through it I listen to My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade.

So it is the hardest thing I have ever fucking done. Ever.









Be brave enough to pick option one.




With bravery, and intense feeling of mortality,
-Mayhem




And a song about this, about drugs, additction. It is good. I recomend you listen to this.