another letter to my insecurities

Insecurities,

You need soul. Enough for the devil to hate you.

You've been so reflective since you've discovered that Sean Daley dropped a new album. You put it on repeat. Atmosphere's done it again, this time he's provided you with a version where the explicits won't taint you. And I know I'm supposed to be talking to myself here, but if you've never listened to Atmosphere - you should.

Get out of bed and do something.

You've locked yourself away in solitary confinement, and you say it's hard to do your hair and go out. Yes, your bed's been getting real comfortable with the contours of your body. But it's the opposite for your soul. You need soul. You need the devil to hate you.

Afraid of responsibilities? Who isn't? Do you hear yourself? It's like you're thirteen-years-old again: slightly annoying and lazy as hell.

You want to cry, but you can't. You don't know why, but it remains. I know why. You're hoping the tears will baptize you. That's a fact.

Pick yourself up and put on some pants today. That's the least you could do.

You need soul. You ain't gonna find it on your computer screen. Soul is out there, and you should be too. Get out there and I promise that one day you will cry. Maybe the tears will baptize you - hell if I know. Just don't stumble into the abyss again, okay?

Sincerely,