To write is to fear words

A year ago I would have told you that I've been searching for inspiration, looking for that next whirlwind to throw me into something overwhelmingly expressive; yet I never would have imagined that what I would encounter less than a week ago, was that thing.

I've been trying to be strong by attempting to drown myself in daily comic relief and by keeping my life moving forward. Yet here I am again at fucking four o' clock in the morning deeply in thought as I realize that the momentum I've been pushing through with is all because you've lost your life, and I feel it's only right that I push forward with mine, if only for the sake of allowing the memory of you to breathe since your lungs have ceased to do so.

What you're reading now isn't even close to what I've scared myself from writing down. It doesn't even hold a candle as a vigil. I don't know when I'll be comfortable to share it yet I know something musically is going to follow and I have no choice in that matter if I plan on moving forward.

There's something about the subconscious...

There's something about the inner desires of a person when something tragic happens...

There's something about expression that can nearly scare you to death when it comes from such a deep, recessed and dark place.

I'm only remaining vague because of the sentiment and fragile nature of the matter, out of deep respect and love, and I pray that everything works out okay.

You will always be in my thoughts and your memory will live on forever through your loved ones and I'm so sorry that there was nothing more that I could do.

I don't want this to haunt me, so writing about it is all I can do...