Theymakestars’s Weblog

Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can’t move, awake but cannot open my eyes, and the weight is crushing down on my lungs, I know I can’t breathe, and hope someone will save me this time. And your father’s still calling you insane and high, Swearing it’s different this time, And you tell him to give in to the demons that possess him, And that god never blessed his insides. Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things and crawl back into bed to dream of a time when your heart was open wide and you love things just because like the sick and dying. And sometimes when you’re on You’re really fucking on, and your friends they sing along and they love you. But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap and it teases you for weeks in its absence. But you’ll fight and you’ll make it through, you’ll fake it if you have to. And you’ll show up for work with a smile, you’ll be better, you’ll be smarter, More grown up and a better daughter or son, And a real good friend. You’ll be awake, you’ll be alert, you’ll be positive though it hurts, and you’ll laugh and embrace all of your friends, and you’ll be a real good listener. You’ll be honest, you’ll be brave, you’ll be handsome and you’ll be beautiful, you’ll be happy…Your ship may be coming in, you’re weak but not giving in, to the cries and the wails of the valley below…