So, they think everything's fine,

That everything's normal.

So, I pretend it is.

That's what this much freedom can do to you:

You delude yourself into thinking everything's okay when it really isn't.

But they don't know how much I'm hurting, that I have been hurting for quite some time,

Caught up within the war inside my being:

The storm that extinguished the beloved fire I once held;

My raging indecisive heart;

A mind overflowing with thoughts everchanging like the wind,

Words trapped there from ever being released,

Ideas with potential for greatness that continue to sit and collect dust.

They don't understand.

They'll never truly understand.

This is the kind of alone that I wish I did not crave…

I want to make amends, I do:

With myself, the one hurting, and those I hurt because of it.

I never meant for my baggage to be theirs as well.

And that only hurt me even more.

This was all on me:

A me far different from the one I once was and had always known and admired,

Before I let all my built-up feelings tear at me from the inside out,

Before I let my storm put out my fire.

I thought I could fix it, all on my own, trying to light the torch to bring my fire back…

But I'm still trying, still grieving for the me I can't get back,

Though now I'm learning to do better, to be better:

Only this time, I'll be reaching out with open arms,

To open my heart and trust another with myself,

To begin to unpack this inner mess I've managed to keep inside all this time.

And by then I can truly hope to be forgiven, to forgive myself,

To properly say and truly mean, "I'm sorry,"

To truly make amends.