You're Not the Same And I'm Not the Same

I havn't.

Gone crazy that is.

If you havn't gone crazy then I havn't gone crazy.
I wrote a song about being crazy and I drew a picture and I stopped and I felt strange being that person. Impersonating the unwell. We are very similar and he doesn't even take the right medicine for what he's got.

Please lower your voice when you talk to me, because when you speak, it sounds as though you are yelling at me.

I apologize to you all personally, myself this time not a fictional character or creative line whipped up to sound more profound than any statement really can be.

My dramatics, idiosyncracies, general nonsense.

I think I'm strange.
But I doubt that I am.
Nobody else seems to think so.

It's weird that it's not weird.

That make sense to you?

Sometimes I feel like you don't appreciate me and I want to yell at you.

But I know that I barely deserve any of you.
Now I'm fed up with reading this, I want to erase it.

but here it is right?
You want to see how I think?

You want to see what's real?
Really I'm just frustrated at being inadequate to the artistic fantasies I surround myself with daily, hourly.

I'm just sorry I'm not around for you more.

And if you think I am, I'm even more sorry.

Because trust me, I'm not.

I suppose I don't know.

But that song was a joke and it was sarcasm and it was happy.

Why do I feel so miserable for him.

God don't leave me alone here again.
Personally, I am afraid of the dark, yes I am.

I pull my sheets up and just pretend like I'm not afraid of what's looming just above my head and I pray and force myself asleep.

But I pass it off real smooth and I write and I seem to be more appreciated as an Idea than as a real person, and I agree.

You can see where I'm going.
Can't you?
You know what I'm trying to say and you can apreciate that someone is trying to explain the unexplainable and attach feelings to colors and words to birds nests.

It just makes me want to be a real person less of the time, and an Idea more often.

I am happy.
I revel in the uphill struggle.

Just because the hill is either invisible or not there at all, doesn't matter much to me at all.

Sleep well, my friends.

Please smile when you see me frowning, because I'm playing out a story in my mind and I'm being a boy who has a lot to deal with, but I'm helping him get through it.

I can save the entire fictional world in my head, and I'm doing it.

One person at a time.
You all are the best.

Love, Tyler.