The Blurryface Effect

I Want to Be Known By You

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         I had decided months ago that I wasn't going to release it the day I said I would. I was too excited. People needed it, and neither of us could wait. We were finishing earlier than expected, and I knew that it had to come. I told them that I would do it on May 19, 2015. I lied. I figured it would be an act of defiance to Him, but I didn't know how early I would release it. It was two days before I had promised that I would. Ah, procrastination at it's finest. Any moment now. I stared at the computer, which was awaiting my command. All I had to do, was hit "send". The button dared me. Lingered for me to click. It whispered my name. It called to me. The calling got louder. As the volume grew the voice changed, and it got deeper, and began to become faster. Rapping the single word over and over against my skull, like the rapping and tapping of knuckles on the front door of your house. Waiting eagerly on the front porch to get in. Faster. The voice pounded against my soul. Faster and faster. Smashed now like a jackhammer. Faster and faster and faster until I could take it no longer—

"ALRIGHT!" I screamed. 

My fingers put pressure onto the plate of the button, clicking the machinery and triggering the energy to flow through the wires, sending the information into the computer, letting the CPU know that the world was ready to see the true face of the demon behind my eyelids. The one that had planted islands of violence, waiting for my sanity to shipwreck on. Until it was the only land my mind could find. Afraid to dare venture anywhere else. Of course, I hadn't known that this was such a violent island, trapped with tidal waves, and suicidal crazed lions that were determined to eat me, blood running down their chin. Eyes that glowed with insanity, making me believe I couldn't win.

How far I had come to gather the weapons and ammunition I could find to dispose of the plague rotting in my mind.

It was a Sunday. May 19, 2015. The task I had taken on so long ago, it seemed like a far off dream, had been completed. I wanted to be known by the people for so long. I had felt like a shadowed shout into the void. I wanted to be known, so I could help people. The way so many of my favorite bands and friends had saved me too. I owed it to them, and it was the best I could do to return the favor.

       I had struggled for so long to get gigs, to gain an audience. To get people to listen. To obtain a voice. Now that the spotlight beamed down like a scorching sun concentrated at me all alone on a stage to myself, I was ready to take the floor, and conquer the crowd. I was ready to let everything I had bottled up inside of me pour out onto the pit. To touch a thousand hands, and be held by hundreds. I was prepared to take on and help anyone else control their own demons, because sometimes, the best therapists pump through speakers and out headphones. Letting the base beat to the rhythm of your soul, and closing your eyes, and soaking up the music. Feeling alive again, and gaining energy from the tiny voice that sings words that express and let you know that "you aren't alone," and "it's going to be okay."
Letting everything go behind you.

I was ready to be known, I was ready to let everyone know, of what a goner I had been and how far I had come to live such a life, where I didn't need to write just about depression and storm clouds and darkness, but of the love I had found around me. My wife. Newly wed, but together for eternity. My best friend, who traveled the world with me to create such beautiful art. My family, that helped me every step of the way. They all did.

       Even god, heaven knows he's up there somewhere. We thanked him in the last album, why not this one too? He deserves a little credit now and again. We thanked the haters in the last one as well, but God knows what struggle was added towards getting this done due to them. They certainly didn't help us, and definitely didn't deserve the credit. As a joke, we thanked push-ups once again for making our arms huge, and concluded the booklet at last.

The world was ready. Even if it hadn't been, it deserved to know. It was too late anyway. Already sent out to cyberspace.

I was ready to be born again. I was ready to shed the last bit of skin from my cocoon, and let the butterfly of a creation take flight, free to bring its delicate wings wherever the wind would take it.

I was free now.