It gets better. Even if the people you think are your friends stop calling you back and you don't understand why you feel oh, so unimportant. It gets better. When you wonder who you are or what you are doing with your life and the last person you saw comes up to you and says, "You look good." Does it look good when my chest drills music, screwing the inner circuit of thought into melody from the tips of my faded pink lips? Does it look good pouring out in, "How've you been?", while simultaneously my heart is screaming only for my dreams that there are more people out there who will get who I am and get that when I open my mouth to sing and I extend my arms to play, to you, that this is not just some "hobby" I can forget about and come back to? It breathes me and I want to give that to you. I never felt that before, always obsessed about why people fall short and fade like ink on my skin or why I glow when nobody is looking. Sobriety shines for me when I reach out and .... no-one is there to hold my hand, when silence is the only thing on the other end, and I forgot - that sometimes people fade. I fall for those six strings to pull me out of who I thought I knew and take me back to where I need to go, to take me back to, "Hang in there. You are not alone."