Britney

I remember listening to this song for the first time almost four years ago, when I still had my mother and a fresh grip on being a teenager. I knew how I wanted everything to look. I knew that I wanted to have what I stupidly thought was the feeling of being in love, and I wanted my friends and I to go to house shows like the one in the video, and I wanted to be consistently creating and not crying in the shadows of my room for days, and I wanted to always feel as alive as I did in the pit or on the nights where I’d come home from a concert on an empty train.

How do I make everything undead? How do I go back to before I killed off the best parts of myself?

I don’t want to be the fool anymore. It’s a role I play well; the bag of phantom accomplishments on my back is beginning to feel like a time bomb, heavy not only with the weight of what-could-have-been but with impending consequence. I am scared and alone. I don’t understand how I got here.

I don’t know what to do about myself.
I don’t know what to do. ♦