In

I learned at a very young age that sometimes to get out you can go in.

And whenever I found myself idling that's what I did.

I built four walls to block out the noise so I could stay.

And made faces to talk to while I was away.

I learned to around without a sound so I didn't disturb

Because talking to yourself is only insane if you're heard.

I 'learned' at a very young age that if I wrote it all down friends can go 'In.'

Because whenever I stuck myself into a book that's what I did.

So I worked and I worked with passion only a child could feel.

Believing that if I finished it'd make it all real.

But my hands and my head always worked at a mismatched pace.

And if all my friends left I'd have to go back and erase.

I learned at a very young age that if you can't make friends you can Make them.

Being alone wasn't so hard then.

I was already doing it and just didn't know.

Just break the bits off of yourself and then watch them grow.

But I wasn't so careful, you see, with taking out parts.

And talking to yourself for so long can numb out your heart.

But, still, I was a lonely kid.

Until somebody

finally

came

In.

I could talk for hours on end

And finally someone listened.

And I could hear all new ideas

From someone truly, actually real.

But eventually, interest wears down.

And they asked me

to

come

Out.

I never noticed how the four walls had grown

Or how deep I had seemed to go

Things were so quiet Outside

You would've thought I might've died.

I learned at a very late age that if all you are is what you've imagined to be

Then you might be a particularly loud nothing.

And if you split too much of yourself off...

Then you might end up extremely small.

Or you end up not knowing what's left of you at all.

I learned at a very late age that there's no real substitute for friends.

And you can't go back to pieces again.

Nothing ever feels like home.

Because no matter how much they've grown.

All those voices are still your own.

I learned at a very late age In can get hard to ignore.

You'll get pulled inside and lose the door.

Time ticks faster the longer you take.

And hours upon days upon weeks get erased.

And memories get lost that can't be replaced.

These days it feels like I'm caught in between.

I'm not really there but I'm still listening.

It's just existing.