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“My Last Apology” is exactly what it sounds like.

For a long time, I lived in chaos and called it who I was. I hurt people I love, especially my family. There were nights I don’t think they knew if I was going to be okay and honestly, neither did I.

I used to apologize and then fall right back into the same patterns. Over and over again.

This song is different.

It’s not an apology followed by “but.” It’s not guilt without change. It’s me finally understanding what all of that actually cost, not just to me, but to the people who stayed when I made it hard to.

“You were standing in the damage, waiting for me to come home.”

They didn’t give up on me. So this is me choosing not to give up on myself anymore.

“I’m learning peace isn’t boring. it’s the life I almost lost.”

This song is a promise. Not that I’ll be perfect, but that I won’t glorify the chaos anymore. That I’ll choose stability, even when it’s uncomfortable. That I’ll keep showing up differently.

“The Knowing” is about learning to trust something I used to question.

For a long time, I didn’t know if my intuition was real or if I was just reading into things. Same with tarot, energy, all of it I kept wondering if it was just coincidence, or me trying to make meaning out of nothing.

But over time, it stopped feeling random.

Patterns started repeating. Feelings I couldn’t explain kept turning out to be right. And eventually, I had to stop dismissing it and actually listen.

This song is that shift.

It starts in that awareness picking up on things people aren’t saying, feeling something off before there’s proof. And then it turns into confidence. Not fear, not paranoia, just clarity.

“I don’t need your words, I don’t need your lies I see the truth crawling behind your eyes”

It’s not about being psychic or special. It’s about recognizing that inner voice and realizing it’s been trying to protect you the whole time.

“I used to doubt it… now I don’t question it anymore.”

“I Hurt You Back” is about toxic relationships and not pretending you’re innocent in them.

I’ve been in situations where things weren’t healthy, where it wasn’t just arguments or “rough patches,” it was constant. The kind of cycle where someone hurts you, and instead of walking away, you stay… and eventually you start hurting them back.

Not because it’s right. Just because it becomes normal.

This song isn’t about blaming one person. It’s about that back-and-forth damage, where both people are keeping it alive even when it’s clearly falling apart.

At some point you have to ask yourself is this love, or just habit? is this worth it, or am I just used to it?

Because yeah, relationships aren’t perfect. But they’re not supposed to feel like a constant war either.

“Brain on Fire” is probably the most honest song I’ve written, even when I didn’t want it to be.

For a long time, I thought everyone else was the problem.

Everyone had advice. Everyone had a plan. “Calm down.” “Take your meds.” “Just breathe.” And all of it felt fake like people were trying to control me, not help me.

When your brain feels like it’s on fire, “just breathe” doesn’t mean anything.

So I lashed out. I spiraled. I pushed people away and told myself I was just reacting to what they were doing to me.

This song lives inside that mindset for most of it the paranoia, the anger, the feeling like you’re fighting something no one else can see.

But it doesn’t stay there.

Because eventually, it caught up to me.

There was a moment where everything snapped into something worse psychosis, losing control completely, being restrained. And that was the first time I couldn’t spin it into “everyone else is wrong.”

That ending “maybe I’m broken… maybe they’re right” that’s not dramatic. That’s the realization I didn’t want.

This song isn’t me blaming other people, and it’s not me excusing what I did either. It’s both sides colliding the version of me that felt hunted, and the reality of what I became in that state.

I think that’s why it’s uncomfortable.

“I’m The Bad Girl” is about what happens when people decide who you are before you even get the chance to speak.

Small towns are loud in a quiet way. Everyone knows something, everyone’s heard a version of the story but it’s never actually yours.

I started hearing things about myself that didn’t even feel real anymore. Some of it had truth in it. A lot of it didn’t. But once people decide you’re the villain, they don’t really care about the difference.

So I stopped trying to correct it.

This song is me leaning into that role they wrote for me taking the rumors, the exaggerations, the “meltdown headlines” and throwing it right back.

“If you need a monster, I’ll take a bow.”

It’s sarcastic, it’s bitter, but it’s also honest. Because underneath all of that is the part people didn’t see the nights that weren’t dramatic or entertaining, just heavy and real.

“You know the mask, but not the eyes.”

At some point, you realize you can’t control what people say. But you can decide whether you let it define you or whether you own it and turn it into something louder than their version.

“Not Your System” came from a day where something in me almost snapped.

I was in the psych ward, being told one thing that gave me hope something small, but enough to make me feel human again. And then later, it got taken back like it never mattered.

It shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but it did.

I remember feeling this pressure building up, like I needed to explode just to be heard. But instead, I went to my room and wrote everything I couldn’t say out loud.

This song is that moment.

It’s the feeling of being reduced to a chart, a label, a “case.” Being watched, documented, managed but not actually understood. It’s anger, but it’s also exhaustion. It’s wanting control over your own mind in a place where everything about you is controlled.

“I’m not a barcode I’m not your file I’m not your system I’m not your trial”

That’s the core of it.

“Small Town / Bigger Secrets” is about addiction and what it takes to walk away from it.

I wrote it while I was trying to rebuild my life, knowing I couldn’t keep going the way I was. Part of that meant leaving people behind not out of hate, and not because I think I’m better than them, but because I needed to survive.

That doesn’t make it easy.

I still care about them. I still want them to find a way out too.

We shared a lot long nights, intense moments, connections that felt unbreakable at the time. But looking back, a lot of it was built on pain, on escape, on something that couldn’t last.

This song sits in that space between love and distance.

“Nervous System Reboot” started as a journal entry, something I wrote when the anger had nowhere else to go.

It came from being around people who used my illness against me. The ones who reduced me to labels crazy, stupid, an addict....like that was all I was.

That kind of weight sticks with you. Even when you try to ignore it, it lingers.

This song was a way to take that back.

To turn something meant to break me into something I built for myself.

I didn’t just survive what they called me. I proved I’m more than it.