Why not just admit it.

Something is wrong.

No.  Something is wrong with me.

I have several voices in my head constantly arguing--with another voice arguing to silence the voices while another voice argues to let them argue.

My pupils contract and I fall free from the world as I let the fight begin while I zone out into a realm where nobody agrees because the world is just so...damn...ambiguous. 

Maybe I need some organized religion.  Maybe I need to get out of town.  Maybe I need to just stop living this fucked up lie that I've framed myself in.  I've realized something over the past couple hours.

I'm fucking empty. 

I look at the druggies.  The drunk kids.  The kids who don't give a fuck.  The kids I once believed I couldn't relate with.  Well the truth is--they don't live lies.  They live how they want to.  At least they're not faking it.  But me?  I'm a fake mother fucker who needs to get his life straight.  Who needs to understand what I'm good for and go for it.

Trouble is, I know what I'm good for.  And I know I can be the best at what I do.

But every time the thought of what I must do sinks in, it seeps down all the way toward the bottom of my heart and it feels do damn heavy.  I constantly interpret the weight of it as some kind of negative expectation.  Some kind of feeling of failure.  But that's just Kid.  Kid Will being a fucking Kid as always.  He'll never grow up.  He'll never understand why until I show him.  But how can I do it?  How can I show him that there's nothing to be afraid of?  Doubts.  Arguments.  There's too many of us in here.  There's too many of us in his head.  We just need...one. 

I am my own problem and my own solution.