Hurt voices are disruptive. They are sharp; they echo against and pierce through the walls that try to hold them captive. Maybe that is why you should never try to contain your pain behind the fragility of your skin.
But then, how do you purge it out and who do you pour it in front of, when it is the world that is hurting you? What do you do when you can’t hold onto the poison anymore, but you don’t know where to spit it out? Do you go around, living a life of misery?
Or, do you take a risk? You trust strangers; you stand in their way until they agree to lend you their ears?
Risks are poorly crafted invitations to a grand display of courage. Strangely enough, the battle begins before you even sign up for it.
Risks are ruthless; they approach you with no mercy. It is either all or nothing; do or die; leap or lie… to yourself.
What do you do when life makes you choose between self-inflicted horror, and deliberately imposed haunting? Do you set your stories free, and let them creep upon the souls of your listeners; or do you let them feed on your own?