And over and over and over I felt unheard. I felt like I was screaming from the bottom of a well, and no one cared. That feeling of your efforts being futile, your voice not being loud enough to ever be heard, or feeling like your vote doesn’t actually mean anything beyond a symbolic act….These pressures add a layer of anxiety to my world, because it becomes one more great, big thing I can’t do anything about it. .Except I don’t want to believe that. I don’t want to believe I can’t do anything about it. I know there are things I can do about it. Starting here.

Many times when we are wrapped up in emotions, we can’t hear anyone else. All we can hear is our perspective, our desires because what we are feeling is so overwhelming. When we try not to feel that fervor, it can come out in weird ways (like being a total meanie-head over cabbage for no reason at all) affecting people we care about.

Regardless of how much I had to say at the time, there was something about putting the words in my head onto paper that made life seem more official. It gave me a way to put words to the day. To make the experience more real and lasting. I enjoyed reading back on things that had happened, even if it had just happened. Re-reading about whatever incident I recorded would remind me of where I was, who I was with, and how it felt.

Like most good art, this song has deepened it’s meaning to me lately. And in times like these, we need more good art to express the things that struggle to be said.