It's only when the city sleeps

that I'd feel alive,

crossing Ts

dotting Is

hoping for a sweet suprise.

It's only when the city sleeps

that I'd feel less alone.

reading pages

on my own

out the window, I'd thrown my phone

when the city sleeps.

Only when the moon came out

would I forget about the accusal

feeling free, free at last,

from judgement

from disaproval

It's only when the city sleeps

that I would feel at home

without any other soul

to feed my rage

ignite my cold.

And when the moon came out

there was no one to impress

for a second

for a moment

Maybe I could feel at rest.

I still have no idea how any version of me could rely so heavily on a boy for happiness. It seemed like every part of me needed him. I so badly wanted to be appreciated--not loved, I wouldn't let myself ask for love--by him. Although I adored him so much, some part of me was deeply, crushingly terrified, and as time passed, that part of me grew more and more evident. I thought about him night and day, and every word I said to him had been anxiously anticipated, but God forbid I ever tell him, for sheer terror of ruining what little we had.

The truth is, back then, I was on the verge of a deep depression, and knowing him pushed me over the edge. I thought he was making me happy, and I told myself that after every anxiety attack, every night I spent worrying about him. A disaster was I, and deeply infatuated. But was it infatuation? That period of my life is still a mystery to me, and I've come to the conclusion that it was nothing about him that made me feel the way I did. I was searching for something to fuel my depression. He was it, and boy, did it fuel those flames. I've succeeded in putting it far behind me, although there was a time when I thought I never would. Still, if given the chance to go back and tell myself to snap out of it, that there's nothing--nothing-- healthy about depending on someone else for my own well being, I would take it. However, that was a part of my life, and every struggle I've gone through has helped me to get here. If that experience was what it took to be here, that's absolutely fine with me.

My friend once called me a Music Addict, because the only thing I use youtube for is music. My most prized posession is my Cannonball Adderley record. I listen to the old, scratchy vynil on a purple record player that I bought myself for my thirteenth birthday. I'm first chair out of the entire band class at school. I play the saxophone and religiously practice the guitar every day. The first thing I do when I get home is practice. My musical preferences range from The Chainsmokers, to Led Zeppelin, from Willy Nelson to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I would say that 'Music Addict is an appropriate way to address me.