My last year of high school was when my descent into madness began, the darkness I’d struggled to ignore for so long finally overtaking my mind completely.  Each moment remains crystalline, every line, every desperate poem and journal entry.  I wrote as if my life depended on it.

I wrote because my life did depend on it.

Music, as always, was my salve,  It was the thing I could trust to always be beautiful, to always bring me back to life when everything was novacaine, suffocating.  Some songs became anathema to the siren’s call, a means of defense and escape emerging in the lyrics and chords.

As Third Eye Blind sings in the track that named this very blog, “The four right chords could make me cry.”

Day 352:  Clumsy – Our Lady Peace