'Now The Blow's Been Softened Since The Air We Breathe's Our Coffin' by Ravyn LaRue

I don't know what to think
within forgiveness I'm finding regret
and now I'm feeling stupid
this all is stupid

I certainly don't miss Chicago
I feel like I would've died
had I stayed there
since there came a point
where I hadn't any salvation
so I felt entirely alone

And now I'm here
feeling far too trapped
trapped by goodness
but trapped nevertheless
and it makes me wonder
whether I'd feel any better
if I were freer, yet sadder

And silly things
like behind the scenes
where I'm pretty sure the cast
orders Giordano's
makes me think
I wish I had a cast when I was there
a team
a family of some small sort

I really don't like feeling conflicted
I'd rather all out hate something
or all out adore it
but the world is full of greyness
even if I only care
to look for vibrant reds and blues and purples

I'm pretty sure I don't want to stay in MN forever
I already feel as though I'm encased in a comfy tomb
and I can't help but feel
even if my flesh were rotting
I could still breathe, perhaps

I want to stay here
until I'm sure of my future
and what I want to do with my soul
but that isn't good at all
considering most people never fully know
and I'm itching with wanderlust

I am pissed
all this was supposed to work
from the beginning
when I was loading up my campus card
and imagining weekends spent
perched at lake michigan
sometimes alone
but always fulfilled with the knowledge that
in my dorm and in my classes
I would have beloveds
and that was not the case

I feel weak for not fighting
but I try to remind myself
of the frog in boiling water analogy
she'll jump out if it's immediately hot
but if it eases up to scalding
it really won't seem that bad

New York City is too big
Portland might be too small
London is too far away
New Orleans is too dangerous
And Chicago didn't work out

Existential angst
is the furthest thing from new
or unique
but it's all I've been barfing up
as of late

I see Chicago destroyed
in videogame ads
and alien movie climaxes
and I want to cheer
in bitter sadistic resentment
but it was in those streets
where I often had nothing but myself
and I must teach myself
to recall those times
when I would've looked back
and seen it as good company

I don't want it to be winter again
I want the sun to burn off
these layers of my skin
that shivered

I don't cut my wrists
and I never did
but I have scars nevertheless
I used to blame it on ghosts
my teachers say it's due to stress
and I want to bind my wrists
to keep whatever's happening from happening
but it must mean something
so perhaps I oughtn't try to stop it
since I still don't feel like a fighter

I still don't feel like a fighter
I feel like a survivor
and that is just as brutal
just as violent
and mainly just as selfish