You know that moment when you're with someone - just you and them, maybe some songs in the background - and you know that moment was gunna happen sooner or later, when that person just cuts the bullshit and breaks down the walls. That moment is raw, and vulnerable, and real. They feel alone, and forgotten. They need to feel something - they just don't know what yet, but it's as if they're saying, "Fuck it, this is me. this is really me. This is what I'm about when it's silent." And you either take em, or leave em. You spend hours talking, sharing deep dark inner secrets, the ones you've been fighting so hard to hold onto - the demons, the skeletons, the ghosts - they're all here too. Some show up faster then others. Sometimes, those moments last up until 6 o'clock in the morning when the sun is getting ready to rise and the sky is this nostalgic gray. How do you feel? Refreshed, invigorated? Alive?

But what happens afterwords? When the rest of the day has dragged on.

You tuck those feelings back in and you wait for the next time you get to break down. It's almost like this is what life has become. We all secretly wait for those moments, because that's when people actually hear you, see you, feel you; and everyone wants those senses stroked.

It's all that matters.