"What do you need?" What do you need, what do you need? I HATE that question, how the hell do I know what I need? Don't you think if I KNEW what I needed I would have already gotten it and begun piecing myself back together? I don't KNOW what I need damnit!

Over the last 22 years i've flown to heights and crashed to depths that "sane" people could never imagine. The first time it blew wide open I was about 16, In that moment I snapped, I literally "snapped", my mind went black, my vision went red. I can't remember a word of what I was screaming, really I can't remember if I was screaming at all, I felt like I was and that it lasted a looong time, but that may not be true. Once before, in a moment of trauma, I remembered screaming and screaming, but my mum says I was completely silent.  I've blacked out most of that incident, no memories at all. But anyways, the day I finally lost it scared the hell out of me. I mark that day as the beginning of this long, strange journey.

Since that day I have learned a few things: I am a dreamer, at times my dreams seem so far from the black pit I am in that I can't even be sure they are my dreams at all, some days I dream in vivid colors, fluorescent greens and blues and purples beckoning to me to pursue them, no matter how far they may be, like a neon arrow over a fast-food drive through-following it may be bad for you, but you can't resist the lure, the sirens call of the bright lights. I am an orator. I speak in rose-tinted analogy, poetry drips from every syllable, my heart and soul behind every uttered sound. I could sell the world to its creator and convince HER it was mine to sell. Even at my most clipped, scared, scarred speech, there is no doubt that all I am feeling at that moment can be heard in ever consonant, read in every vowel. I am a soldier, marching out of step, backwards, to a different beat than the rest of the human army. While the world around me marches in a sea of human feet pounding pavement to a 1-2-3-4 count, I march in a sea of souls bouncing off clouds and crashing into brick walls to a 17-32-68-1090 count. I am out of step, out of beat, incapable of moving with the human army. I am a missionary, I speak for those others cannot and never will hear. I preach the words of my disconnected, electric thoughts and I utter the tears of my crying, shaking soul. I am electricity, depravity, big dreams and visions of hell. I am ricocheting off phone poles, running through leaf piles, crash landing in already flaming plane wreckages, sitting on stars. I am.