nya~

It's... a little strange, looking back on my life. I've always felt like we've all been drowning. Not just me and my parents, but a lot of people. 

When I would go for my walks with my brother, when I would go to school, when I would go anywhere at all, I could see familiar stories play out. It was all the lonely people in life. I know that now. We're all so fucking lonely, all the time. We can't go a moment without feeling like we're falling through the gap.

My parents used to beat me. They don't, anymore. I'm a lady now. But that was another way I could connect with the world outside. The pain I felt was no different than those in the gutter. And... wouldn't it be nice to connect, again? I could rest my hand against the glass window and listen as kids talked about lost teeth and bloody noses. We came from violence, after all. We understood each other.

And I understood my parents. We were all drowning, and in that way, it was kind of sacred. We were drowning, yes, but we were drowning together. We didn't care for each other, but we had each other to drown with. We had companionship in our descent. And our wheel, our family, had been turning for a long time. My grandfather was a lifelong smoker. Used to put it out on my mother. Tell her she wouldn't be pretty enough for a man. Would end up going for anyone who would look her in the eye.

She was a bitter, cold woman. That much is true. And my father is a bitter, cold man. There's not any dispute there. And I will one way be a bitter, cold lady. But for now, I am drowning with them as their child. Or I was.

I felt lonely. We all were, in our ways. We had no one to turn too. No one who understood each of us as individuals. When food wasn't on our table, it wasn't because we didn't have money. When those I passed by, those I saw in run down apartments, when they didn't have food, it was because they didn't have money.

It was our own situation. So I asked a question. Who is out there that could listen to me? Who is out there that could understand me?

I found a friend. I found a little bit of fire. I hope to share it with my parents, those who raised me in such a manner. If we're going to drown together, if we're going to burn together, then I want them to have what I have. I've given up so much already to them because they asked. And this is theirs, just like the money I get from my marriage will be theirs.

They raised me, after all. I'm not dead because of them. So... this, like me, is theirs as well. Once I figure out how to share it, I will. This friend of mine, this light of mine... I'm going to let it shine.

Let it shine, oh, let it shine... let it shine.