Rest In Torment

I sense as though I am unable to express myself through personally composed poetry, so I will use the following piece of music to express those feelings for me. That being said, this song is not a completely accurate depiction of my mourning. In certain ways, I can relate to it though. The main subject within R.I.T. by The Devil Wears Prada is suicide, but it also includes sub-themes such as: self-deprecation, loneliness, depression, etc. I am not in a suicidal situation, but I personally struggle with things like self-deprecation and depression. When I am lonely, it's usually my own fault. I am in a place of life (and have been for the past 3.5 years) where I am very introverted. I don't consider that trait as something God-given, or God-rebelling exactly, but it's where I'm at right now. I don't exactly like being with people, and I don't exactly like being by myself. Most times, I wish that I were somewhere else. I'm constantly looking for contentment, but I can't seem to hold onto it for all that long. Anyway, I would say that I especially struggle with self-deprecation. It is such a bad habit to fall into, but I'm trying to climb out. I've been wondering to myself: "it must be really bothersome to the people around me?" Therefore, I am trying to stop. It's not healthy for others, it's not healthy for me, so it's time to lay it to rest.

The Devil Wears Prada - R.I.T.

Turn your back now: lose yourself in hesitation.

Dancing, dancing, always dancing, and staring at the floor.

The sun came out just long enough to go down.

She shows the symptoms of being my suicide.

I’m holding you to blame for this. I won’t stop selling myself short.

The broken windows: all of the glass. Knife in my hand: the questions I've asked.

I dream about her more nights than not. I can’t drown this away. (I can’t drown this away)

With every single move that you make, you come closer to breaking me.

With every single breath that I take, you push further from helping me (but you can’t, you can’t).

I’m pulling the weight again. With every single move that you make, I come closer to ending me.

I blame myself, and it’s not the first time. You see me for what I am: damaged.

Turn your back now: I will bask in the blackness of my darkest days.

With every single move that you make, you come closer to breaking me.

With every single breath that I take, you push further from helping me

(but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t).

I’m pulling the weight again. With every single move that you make,

I come closer to ending me. Self-loathing me.