Text: Carrier (The). One Year Later. Nineteen Years Young.

I'm nineteen years young and my mind is weathered. I'm nineteen years young and things aren't getting any clearer. Since '88 I've felt this hate suffocated by my inability to overcome the unknown. Only fragments of memories I can't piece together. I can't turn inwards because I can't see because I can't fully understand who I was born to be. I have a family who will always love the me that they never see. My tormented soul ravages me after a lifetime of praying. I'll come to an end only to find my years of praying have fallen to deaf ears. Ideas come from nowhere. Where was the beginning of it all. I've cheated, I've lied, I've stole, I've sold my soul, all in hopes of ending it all. The future I see looks bright but the lights are dimming. I'd pray to him if I thought he was rel. I wouldn't question him if he could make me feel anything other than apathy anything other than certain tragedy. I've got not other choice but to have faith in life regardless of the end. I must live my life. I'm seeing the world in black and white. As if everyday I live is a memory of another persons life. As if everyday I live is from another's life