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I’ve always been too much. Too loud, too honest, too hard to figure out.
They told me to calm down, be softer, make myself smaller.
But quiet never saved me. Chaos did.
I grew up in a town where no one really saw me. And when they did, they saw the wrong version.
Some days I looked fine. Other days, I scared people. I didn’t mean to.
It’s just—when things got too loud in my head, I couldn’t hide it.
So I turned it into sound.
Music wasn’t a dream. It was a reaction. A last resort.
“Falling deeper, I can’t breathe”—that line? I wasn’t writing lyrics.
I was writing what I couldn’t say out loud without breaking.
I don’t write to entertain you.
I write because it’s the only way I know how to stay alive.
There’s no version of me that’s polished or perfect.
There’s just this: the noise, the truth, and whatever I’ve got left after the worst nights.
They told me to calm down, be softer, make myself smaller.
But quiet never saved me. Chaos did.
I grew up in a town where no one really saw me. And when they did, they saw the wrong version.
Some days I looked fine. Other days, I scared people. I didn’t mean to.
It’s just—when things got too loud in my head, I couldn’t hide it.
So I turned it into sound.
Music wasn’t a dream. It was a reaction. A last resort.
“Falling deeper, I can’t breathe”—that line? I wasn’t writing lyrics.
I was writing what I couldn’t say out loud without breaking.
I don’t write to entertain you.
I write because it’s the only way I know how to stay alive.
There’s no version of me that’s polished or perfect.
There’s just this: the noise, the truth, and whatever I’ve got left after the worst nights.
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