Casey Uk Wound Lyrics
Wound by Casey (UK)
From a soapbox, I have glorified my slow disintegration
Nothing more than my verbose, romanticised self-deprecation
I've little more to offer than advice on letting blood
My cynicism serves no purpose, and my love is not enough
To eschew negative behaviours that I've tried to use to cope Abuse of prescribed medication lay as a hand around my throat
But sobriety failed to sedate high functioning depression
My levity has always been a wound that needs addressing
And the diagnostic lens through which my health is often viewed Fails to take in to account the uncomfortable truth
Perhaps my pessimism prospers in the absence of progress
Is my cynicism premature or justified by my emptiness?
But sobriety fails to sedate high functioning depression
My levity has always been a wound that needs addressing
Since becoming an adult I've tried to think about it less often, but at the tender age of sixteen I'd already hit the bottom. My brother found me sitting on the floor of the family bathroom, crying hysterically, and desperately clutching to two or three packets of painkillers that I'd been terrified of for weeks. I'd been feeling low for a while, but I never truly felt comfortable speaking about it, and he wasn't really able to understand what he'd seen but he knew that I was upset so decided to sit beside me, and that was enough for me to view the situation from a new perspective. While true I knew what I was doing, I'd neglected to think beyond that moment, and ironically it scares me to death now knowing that I may have left him without a brother because of a mindset I'm yet to fully recover from. But I guess the memory also invigorates me with a hope that evidently I was lacking at the time, which is fortunate because now, ten years down the line, I've thought of leaving more than I care to remember; but while the bad days still hold weight, they're definitely getting better. Every day I dilute the nefarious self-deprecation and loathing a little more with the help of my loved ones, whose constant support I certainly wouldn't be here without. In all the ways that I am weak, I am also strong; learning how to speak gave me the strength to carry on
Nothing more than my verbose, romanticised self-deprecation
I've little more to offer than advice on letting blood
My cynicism serves no purpose, and my love is not enough
To eschew negative behaviours that I've tried to use to cope Abuse of prescribed medication lay as a hand around my throat
But sobriety failed to sedate high functioning depression
My levity has always been a wound that needs addressing
And the diagnostic lens through which my health is often viewed Fails to take in to account the uncomfortable truth
Perhaps my pessimism prospers in the absence of progress
Is my cynicism premature or justified by my emptiness?
But sobriety fails to sedate high functioning depression
My levity has always been a wound that needs addressing
Since becoming an adult I've tried to think about it less often, but at the tender age of sixteen I'd already hit the bottom. My brother found me sitting on the floor of the family bathroom, crying hysterically, and desperately clutching to two or three packets of painkillers that I'd been terrified of for weeks. I'd been feeling low for a while, but I never truly felt comfortable speaking about it, and he wasn't really able to understand what he'd seen but he knew that I was upset so decided to sit beside me, and that was enough for me to view the situation from a new perspective. While true I knew what I was doing, I'd neglected to think beyond that moment, and ironically it scares me to death now knowing that I may have left him without a brother because of a mindset I'm yet to fully recover from. But I guess the memory also invigorates me with a hope that evidently I was lacking at the time, which is fortunate because now, ten years down the line, I've thought of leaving more than I care to remember; but while the bad days still hold weight, they're definitely getting better. Every day I dilute the nefarious self-deprecation and loathing a little more with the help of my loved ones, whose constant support I certainly wouldn't be here without. In all the ways that I am weak, I am also strong; learning how to speak gave me the strength to carry on