Let’s talk about the hard stuff

It’s been a tough week. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong, the wheels just started to wobble early on and it just seemed to be a steady downhill ride and they fell off. Considering I think I coped pretty well. I got back up and carried on putting out fire after fire at work, attempting to justify myself without getting on the defensive. I haven’t had a chance to see my pony, so that’s probably added to my lack of energy. I’m fighting a chest thing. I don’t know what it is, all I know is I can’t run…and it’s driving me nuts not being able to train properly. I received less than ideal news about my thyroid from my recent scan.

There have been some great positives to this week with volunteer work opportunities and a teaching opportunity with a pony club. So I’m excited and clinging dearly onto those little highs.

Last week I wrote a blog, which I then deleted from Facebook. It covered a pretty sensitive topic: suicide. I decided I wasn’t in the right mind frame really to talk about it and I was pretty concerned about how people close to me might read it and take it in a way I didn’t mean.

But I’m back. And since suicide has been in the news almost every single day since I deleted it, I decided to buck up and get back on here and talk. That’s what I started this blog for right?

From the beginning: I’ve struggled with depression since I was young. I was probably about 14 when I first realised I wasn’t coping like most people cope and I described the feeling to a close friend as ‘the dark bubble’. It was only way I could describe it at the time. I’m not even sure if the idea of depression crossed my mind then. But I did know something wasn’t right.

Depression and a bunch of other stuff that tends to go hand in hand with it runs in my family. I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor. I think I’ve probably only ever actually identified it openly with words as depression twice in my life, once with my friend with whom I called it ‘the dark bubble’ and once in casual conversation with my mother. Otherwise, it can just sit in the back of my mind.

Why I’ve been subject to a fairly shitty thing could be down to a number of reasons: over active thyroid (I have a toxic thyroid nodule) issues almost always go hand in hand with mental health and depression, it’s in my family, or I have a personality which is partial to it.

Pick a reason.

To be honest it actually doesn’t matter for what I want to talk about.

Suicidal thoughts.

That word is one that’s not particularly easy to type and I’ve only ever once said it in conversation about myself…and that was last week to my partner.

I post regularly on a FB pg called YouthNet and every article just about has something to do with people needing to open up and talk about these issues, “People need to talk about mental health issues and suicide; it needs to be something we are not afraid to deal with.” That’s what most of the articles say. And I get right in there and say “YES!”

Yet I never speak about it personally.

Why? Because I’m afraid. What if my family starts to worry about me? I’ve survived 100 per cent of my days so far, I know I will be fine. What if a future employer comes across this and thinks I won’t be able to work properly? What if something thinks I have a ‘mental health disorder’ and they don’t want me to be part of their organisation? What if Sam’s friends and family don’t like me anymore? What if people think there is something wrong with me?

And that right there, is exactly the reason we have a massive issue with suicide and depression in our country.

Isolation and fear mean people do not want to talk about it. Not when it’s to do with them.

When I was 14 I remember very clearly plotting out all the different ways to die, narrowing them down into my top two. And whenever I hear someone has died that way it hits a nerve…every single time. Back then it gave me a sense of control over myself and my life. I felt like if I had the option to escape, then it was always my choice to continue. And that took a massive weight off my shoulders.

I often would stop eating. Never enough to be of a major concern and it had absolutely nothing to do with my weight. I probably didn’t realise what I was doing until this year when shit hit the fan when I came back from overseas and I found myself skipping meal after meal.

I saw it this way: I couldn’t control how I felt, but I could sure as hell control a) whether I had to live through it and b) I could punish my body by with holding food. I punished it because it wouldn’t work like other peoples. It was anxious, it was too skinny, it was struggling with things most people found easy.

One day mum knew someone who committed suicide. She told me about it. I saw the pain on her face, the sadness, the hurt, the ‘why?!’

I think it was probably the reason I understood death was in fact final. It was not just an escape, it was over for good. And while it’s easy to say ‘well, yeah? Duh.’ It’s actually a concept that’s hard to grasp when you’ve never seen the effects of death or the reality of it. That is why we need to talk to our children about it.

By about 15 I started to feel ok and by 16 I can’t remember any suicidal thoughts. I never said anything when I was younger and I’m not entirely sure why. I think because, while I knew most people don’t think that way, I was really fine. I didn’t want to die. At the end of the day it was about control.

Life has had many, many up and downs since then but while I’ve suffered moments of depression, I haven’t had any overwhelming thoughts about death. So I never really worried about it. It became a moment in time that could easily be forgotten. I was young, hormones were changing.

I’ve put a lot of it down to things like my thyroid, my diet etc. And it was the reason for a lot of the issues. But it’s not the reason for all of it. I don’t know the reason.

So it took me by surprise when last week, out of nowhere, in the midst of life feeling pretty darn good, I found myself back in those moments when I was 14. “What’s the best way out?”

And it was then that I had to actually accept this is something bigger than me. People don’t just ‘get over it’ and moments of depression, of wanting out, strike out of nowhere and there is very little one can do about it.

Someone came up to me on Sunday and asked, “Are you ok? You seem a little off.”

I replied with “Yeah, I’m fine.” I mean, I don’t really know how to just sort of lay “Oh yeah, nah, I’m struggling with suicidal thoughts out of nowhere that I can’t explain and I’m really fine, but also feeling like complete shit.”

Laying that on someone makes it real.

No I don’t want out. I love my life. I love being alive. I love the people I am with and my friends, my family are some of the best around.

But that doesn’t stop those thoughts creeping in.

And that is my message. You have absolutely no idea what is going on in someone’s life. There have been moments in mine where it really was all turning to shit and I was feeling like  I was living in some joke that went wrong, yet it looks fine. It looks good.

Doesn’t mean it is.

And just because someone may have an amazing life with what seems to be no reason to be upset. They can be struggling. They can be fighting their biggest internal battle and you do not know that.

Some of my friends have had no idea the extent of my thoughts last week. But they are the reason I’m feeling resilient and pretty good this week, even though it’s been a crappy one. I know they’re there for me, they want to support me, they want to make sure I’m ok without having to make me feel like I’m ‘different’ or ‘weak’. I’m not different and I’m far from weak. This is not a struggle only I struggle with and I think the news this past week has made that pretty clear to New Zealand.

Let’s stop making people feel like they need to ‘toughen up’. Let’s stop ignoring teenagers when they aren’t coping and telling them ‘you’re only young, what do you have to worry about?’

We need to stop treating people like they’re less of a person because they struggle with something they cannot control.

Knowing people care, a smile in a coffee shop, a hug from an acquaintance at church, a wine with the girls. I didn’t want to get out of bed so Sam brought me breakfast in bed. And then gave me no choice to get up. Having my friend and her husband send me some absolutely amazing encouragement…that’s what gets me motivated in those moments. No one needed to take on my burden – that doesn’t help anyone, but just knowing someone had taken a moment of their time to care about me, that’s what I needed.

For me, when I’m struggling often I seem really bubbly, I seem happy. But there a moments I’ll stare off into nowhere. I’m not sure why that is. It’s just me. When I’m not struggling, I can have a bad day and I’ll look sad, I’ll feel sad. But that’s sadness.

Moments of depression feel as if you are in sinking sand, it’s the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, it’s the dread of the day, it’s the not seeing a way out from the moment of darkness you’re in.

One of the most powerful quotes I have read came from a site called The Broken Borderline (follow her on FB).

If the photo hasn’t loaded on your screen it says this: “The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any other abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from a window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘don’t and ‘hang on’ can really understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to be personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”

For me personally, those flames have never been close enough for me to do anything other than weigh up the options. And that has been my mission for a long time; make sure those flames never do get close enough.

I have surrounded myself with amazing, caring people who complement me. I have quit things in life that drag me down and make me feel like I’m worthless. I have taken on volunteer projects and have found ways to make sure every single day I know, without a doubt, that I am valued, I am loved, I am wanted, and I belong.

Most importantly, I belong.

And that is why I came back from my travels with an absolute certain drive that I wanted to be in a position to help. To make sure people do not EVER feel like they do not belong in their own lives. That they are WANTED, LOVED, VALUED. And most importantly, that there are people who do GET what it feels like to feel the flames and want desperately to escape the terrible thoughts that surround your mind. The darkness that wraps itself around you and makes its home in your tears, anger and frustration.

It does get better. I can promise that. But I will admit it is still at times a struggle, but every single moment I wake up in the morning and I am glad to be here. That is a victory. And I know that. The struggle is worth it.

I’m studying psychology because I want to fix it. I started, to be honest, because I actually wanted to understand how to fix myself. But now I feel like it’s bigger than me. And because of that I try to find at least one thing in my day that went either well, or that I am thankful for. It can even be the lady at the supermarket who helped me with a smile.

I cling onto just about anything good. Because I do understand what it’s like not to feel anything good. And because of that, I really do appreciate what good feels like.

So to end I just want to say be kind, be loving, be the kind of person you’d want to meet on a bad day. Buy someone a drink or a coffee, make the time to send a text to someone on your mind. Don’t ever stop caring about other humans; create an environment around you where people can be open. People should not be afraid to be open in whatever forum they want to be.

Just writing a post like this is a massive step for me. Talking, even with a very guarded mindset to my partner about it was also massive.

But as everything in my life…it’s one step at a time. One step toward loving it, toward coping with it, toward just being a bloody good person.

Be a community. Love as a community. Because you have no idea who may very well need you.

You are valued, you are amazing, you are one of a kind, and please stay around because the world needs people like you.

If you know someone struggling, what this video from the other night on TVNZ. It really is worth a watch for everyone…

https://www.tvnz.co.nz/ondemand/the-hard-stuff-with-nigel-latta/09-08-2016/series-2-episode-8

Also, have a scroll through these pretty real and wonderful quotes from The Broken Borderline pg.

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Much love x

 

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The rocky roads

Life’s been a bit up and down lately, literally. Ivy decided a few weeks ago that I hadn’t swum enough this year and ran straight into the ocean during a beach ride. After several rodeo moments she landed me head/hands first into a great big wave. She then left me for dead and took off up the beach, through the sandjunes and around the neighbourhood. I then emerged from the water, soaking wet head to toe in my full riding gear and chased her down the beach. When that failed, I gave up and proceeded to walk around the area asking people if they’d seen a horse, most people were a little shocked by a stranger dripping wet wearing a helmet, horseless, asking if they’d seen said horse. Others commented on her beauty as she galloped riderless up the beach. Yes, yes that’s exactly the thoughts going through my mind in those moments…her beauty. We found her on someone’s back lawn, tied to a gate by the next door neighbours where were rather perplexed as to how a horse had turned up on their lawn, fully tacked up, in suburbia. Thankfully neither was too badly hurt, my pride mainly, and a little later I discovered my wrist was sprained but a trip to A&E established I was not in fact dying, despite the pain, and it wasn’t even fractured.

I thought I’d begin this blog with a funny story because if you keep reading, you’re going to need that humour. I think I’ve been holding onto as much humour as I can lately. I think that just makes life a bit easier to cope with. And watching your horse leave you in the water while providing people with a good dose of entertainment is certainly a good dose of humour, there’s not much else you can do but laugh!

Today in kids church one of the leaders came up to me and asked me if I was ok. I said “Yeah? Do I not seem ok?” He said I seemed a little off. I hadn’t really stopped to think about it to be honest. When you’re struggling with stuff I think it’s just easier not to think about it.

I mean how do you turn to someone and say “Well not really, I’ve been having suicidial thoughts for the past week because I don’t feel like I can cope.”

Like how do you just lay that on someone? Actually I don’t think I’ve ever openly said that to anyone.

For years I’ve been fine. Depression is a moment every now and then that knocks on my door but this last week it’s smacked that damn door right in my face and left me reeling a little wondering what the hell happened. I have nothing in my life that’s bad. There is no reason to feel particularly down. I just do. And that is one of the toughest things to explain to people. So I don’t.

It is easier to stay quiet and be ‘ok’. And I am ok. I really am. I know how to get through the down moments and tonight when people asked “how are you?” tonight I said “I’m good!” Because I am. I feel really good today and I know I will be just fine. I felt alive and like I wanted to be that way all damn day. That is pretty exciting. And I don’t write this at all to make people worry and I do not want people to suddenly say anything different to me, I have so many attentive friends and family. I am incredibly blessed and lucky. Because of them, their amazing way of just being, I always know I will be ok and I will get through it. No one needs to be anything other than what they’re being

I will always keep going, and I know even in the worst moments, I am going to be ok and I have a reason to live. Always.

I write it because I feel like there are people out there who need to read it…and know it’s ok. Because I want people to know they can open up and be honest, and that culture starts with me.

I run a Facebook pg called ‘YouthNet’. It’s an organisation that deals with mental health stuff. Anyway, I regularly post stories on there about family members who have written letters after their mum, son, daughter has killed themselves and they say ‘I want to raise awareness because not enough people talk about’. And I post them over and over…yet I’ve never once said anything to anyone…ever…about my own struggles.

Little bit hypocritical?

I was standing in church tonight and I started crying. And I never cry in church, but it just sort of hit me. It’s really hard some days to truly believe my life has a meaning and point. It pisses me off so damn much because I have absolutely nothing to be upset about. There are people living in cars and there are people who don’t know where their next meal is coming from.

And here I am living a beautiful life and I feel like I can’t hack it?

So many times I want to just tell myself to get over it and deal with it. But some days I just can’t. And that’s just the shitty thing about things like this, they hit at the strangest moments.

But what I have also learnt is those moments where it just seems like it’s far too much, those are the moments just before it gets good. And you can go years and years and years and be so fine and so great and so happy…then for no reason out of the blue you can’t do it.

Usually right when things should be good.

Anyway I’m pretty nervous about posting this, actually I’m terrified. This is honest even for me. I worry about people worrying about me, I am fine. This is not my first rodeo. But I do want to tell people how important it is to be kind, to be loving, to be open about struggles. To just be there for your friends. The people you love, the ones you don’t. Every single person you come across in your day be kind to them and listen. Be a beautiful person who makes someone’s day. Would you want to meet you if you were having a bad day?

For me, I focus on the little things. I focus on giving. On the days I simply cannot do it, I do something for someone else. I’m not sure when I began that, but it gives me a kind of purpose beyond myself and my own life. And it is so, so hard. I did not want to get out of bed this morning. Actually if I hadn’t been with Sam I probably wouldn’t have. But we saw some people and I was excited and I chatted because I got out of bed. I did that. I didn’t cry all day and I didn’t think one single awful thing about myself.

I’ve started focusing on loving myself and my abilities and trying to shut down those little thoughts of ‘you can’t do it’, ‘you’re not going to make it’ that become big over powering thoughts that shout. I’ve set a goal: if I can go an entire week without thinking one bad thing about myself I will treat myself to a massage.

It’s a massive goal, even sane and happy people would struggle. But it gives me something to focus on.

So that’s that. Take a deep breath.

I’ve found blogging hard lately; it’s super hard to be as open and honest as I want to be and as I need to be so I’ve just shut down and said nothing.

Keep your chin up guys, life is good regardless of the situation, it gets better and most importantly of all; YOU ARE WORTH SOMETHING. You are worth so, so much. You are amazing. You are beautiful. You are everything you need to be and more.

The best is yet to come.

Peace out.

 

 

1,2,3…25

It’s been five month since I arrived home. When I put it like that it doesn’t seem long at all, but I feel like I’ve lived a life time in that period! I’d have laughed if you’d told me, as I boarded that plane home from Paris, I’d be in marketing, PR and working as a office ‘doer of lots of things’ with a new relationship. I might have believed you if you’d told me I’d be applying for the police force and studying psychology. But I would have been surprised, because honestly, I never thought I had the guts to just get up and change everything.

There are many defining moments in a person’s life. As a child some of those might be learning to talk, to walk, to eat, to make friends… or not to. In your younger teen years you decide if you’re going to drink, have sex, date, drive, what hobbies you’ll pursue, what subjects at school you’ll chose. As a young adult you’ll decide where to study, what to study, how much effort you’ll put into that study…you’ll begin serious relationships or you might not. You’ll have to decide if you’re going to be the sober driver or risk a DIC. You’ll make tough choices about the right and wrong decision. You’ll decide to travel or not to, who you marry, when you’ll have kids. You might find out you can’t have kids and you choice you make then will definite a lot.Or you might not want them. That’s cool too.

We never stop making defining decisions.

So far I have made many, many defining life decisions. But I don’t look back and think ‘man I’m glad I kept trying to walk every time I fell over as a child’. I just got up and did it without ever stopping to think about the significance of it.

I think as we get older it’s easy to over think every decision. Anyone who knows me will have a chuckle at that. I’m the classic over thinker, I know I am, and I’m working on that ok?…in between the random freak-outs and tears…

I have a ‘what if’ for almost every occasion.

But the other side to my personality is my ability to just do it because my gut tells me it’s exactly where I’m meant to be. For every ‘what if’ I have a ‘why not?’

It’s very conflicting at times.

And it also makes for a very exciting, well thought through life.

I’m the sort of person who doesn’t sit still for long. I might fall down for a moment, and as my mother can attest to, lie in the middle of the living room floor because I just can’t face life at that moment, but I will always, always get up and find plan B. Sometimes plan B should have always been my plan A.

There I was, just before my medical assessment for the police, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous for anything…ever. I have never wanted something more than I want this. Not because it’s my plan B, but because while I was travelling I realised this was always meant to be my plan A, I just needed to do a few things before I could arrive here.

So it matters. It matter so damn much I can’t think of it not working out.

This is a life defining decision but I’m going to face many, many obstacles on that journey, just like I did when I learnt to walk.

I want more than anything to help people, to analyse people, to bring change, to discover things, to work with people to make things better. I want improvement, I want betterment, I want a life full of incredible surprises and breath taking moments of joy.

But that takes moments of tearful frustration, sore muscles, a tired mind, and late nights.

I have run five times a week for the past eight weeks. I’ve cut my run time for 2.4km from 17 minutes down to 13 minutes. I need to get another minute off, I want to get another two off.

That’s a massive goal for someone like me whose body thinks running is an odd concept only used during moments of high adrenaline.

The sixth day home from overseas I got on that treadmill. I knew damn well what I wanted but I also knew how far away from it I was. I managed to run 1km that day in 10 minutes. It took me a month and a half to be able to run 2km.

My legs ache, my ankles ache, my lungs burn. I hate that treadmill so much, so, so, so damn much.

I’ve gone from doing 6 push ups to 25 in the space of three months.

My arms ache every day, my back aches. My legs are currently covered in Kinesio tape from the knee down. I don’t think there is a muscle in my body that hasn’t hurt at some point in the past three months. I spend an hour a day in the gym five-six days a week.

I spend most of my afternoons working on assignments going over word counts, analysing data, and reading books for my psychology diploma. I owe my parents a nice little amount of money for that too…that’s worth a good trip overseas.

As for the travel I want to do at the end of the year… I work two jobs on top of study and fitness. Because I want to pay off my debt and I want to see the world.

The other day I flopped down at home, like I usually do after I get home from the gym, I was almost in tears. I’d upped the speed on the treadmill and struggled to make it to 2km before I had to stop. I put huge pressure on myself to achieve things quickly. Sometimes though, it’s really important to stop and congratulate yourself for making it this far without giving up.

I’m currently battling shin splints.

I really hate the debt I have.

I desperately want to make that run time.

I have absolutely no idea if I’m going to pass my assignments.

But it’s all for something. And I’m incredibly amazed with how I really did leave my job, go overseas, walk away from a relationship going no where, start again, find a new career goal, and take charge of my life. I just up and turned it all around because it wasn’t where I wanted to be going.

I don’t think enough people take charge of their lives and trust what they know is right.

It’s easy to sit down and sulk and go ‘I can’t do it, it’s too hard’. But I know what would be much harder than this right now, is sitting in the same place in a few years time wondering why I didn’t just go for it.

When I stop and I look back on just how far I’ve come in a very short space of time I remind myself that anything is possible if you’re crazy enough to believe it.

Big goals, take big sacrifices.

And on a rainy night last night all I wanted to do was curl up in bed with a good book and a cup of tea, but instead I finished an assignment and spent 40 minutes at the gym. I’m out of energy, out of motivation, but it’s one foot after another.

#neverstopstarting

(Yeah, I stole that from the Spark ad campaign… so what, it’s a good quote!)

Till next time!

Be nice!

Do you ever have those days where you’re just like ‘I quit’ ‘I quit life today, I’ll be back tomorrow’?

I’ve had a few of those lately.

Thankfully I’ve been lucky enough to have amazing contacts who have given me some pretty cool stories. But a job where you’re dealing with people all the time can often be a little depressing. I know I’m born for this job, but there are days where you sit there and go, ‘why?’.

When you are dealing with at least 10 people a day, it’s easy to come across a few ass holes. And I really don’t like ass holes. We live in such a beautiful country, we have all this incredible luxury around us, and so many people still lack the ability to be kind.

Just one simple act of kindness goes a long way. I have made it my personal mission in life to be as kind as possible to the people who seem like they really need it, and the ones who don’t. Everyone needs kindness at the end of the day.

You just have no idea how close someone might be to breaking point, and just one simple thought beyond your own life to extend a hand and lift someone else up may just be the one thing that keeps them going.

Life can be hard at the best of times, so why on earth do we go out of our way to make other peoples harder than it has to be?

Anyway, that’s my rant before I head off for the long weekend.

Be nice people!

You do not give up.

Giving up is hard. For me it simply isn’t an option. Anyone who has ever fought hard to get somewhere knows what I am on about. Giving up is the thing you can’t afford to think about or you’ll break, you wont make it. It is not an option. I had never given up on anything until I was told my horse had arthritis, at 7. It broke my heart. It still does. People don’t get that. I often get told I’m competitive. I’m not. I’m scared, terrified that things wont work. I don’t believe in myself and I don’t have much faith in other people. 

When you’re a horse rider, you simply learn to never give up. It is not an option. 

Then I had to. I had to stop getting that amazing rush when you take a 500 kg animal flying through the air, around corner and then you win. You’re the one who was better, the best. Sometimes you don’t make it but granted most of those times, it’s because you started to doubt. 

If you’re facing 1.30 on the back of that animal, the one you’ve spent an hour or two or three or more with, every, single, day for the past 4 years, and you doubt that you’ll make it over, you often don’t. So after flying over that jump solo with the horse looking at you like you’re a freaking idiot, you get it. You get that you don’t doubt, because doubting is painful. 

I never got on the back of my horse to win. Not once did I go into a ring wanting to win. I wanted the rush, that addiction filler, that satisfaction of having given it my best shot, of pushing myself. Of being better than I was last time. To feel that incredible, indescribable feeling. I was, and never have been competitive. Not because I can’t, but because I don’t want to be. It is pointless to compete against other people because there will always be someone better. I compete with myself, to be the best I possibly can, to not give up. I push myself because I do not want to stop. I know I can do it, so I do. 

Does it bother me when people tell me I’m competitive? Yes. Not because it is a flaw, but because it means they have no idea who I really am. I want the best for every person I meet, I want them to succeed and if that sometimes means giving things up so they can, I will. But it does not mean I will ever give up completely. I do not want to be the best, I want to be better. 

 

Game changer play your hand.

It is easy to watch the things that kept you together fall apart at one in the morning. It is easy to feel abandoned when people change like a ‘Stuff’ news feed. It is not easy to admit defeat and fall apart. What happened? The moments before the stuffing flew out of the bean bag replay. No it’s not the time to say what’s on your mind. Go ahead and do it anyway. Hold your teddy and sing yourself into a lullaby. Head to the darkest place in time and hide there. That’s how it is. And all you want to do is get on the next plane out of here. What stops the very need to escape? What keep you hanging on when that noose is waiting. You trip on the words and spin out the lies to keep the moments in your pocket. Hold tight and jump on the ‘haters bandwagon’. Could start a trend of tears and selfish bitching.

This world makes it very hard to be a nice person. Strive to be better. They divert the path and draw lines in the wrong directions. Hold on. Here comes the head on. Save the lights let the night take over. Here comes that song that makes you want to sing along. One more game and this is calling it quits. This is putting a foot down. The one’s who is trampled on often finds their feet. We were never meant to carry the weight of the world.

Here we go game changer. Play the cards and sing the song. On we march till we meet the dawn. Hold that head high.

Here comes the cross fire.