The Daddy Long Legs Within

Are you afraid of spiders? Not the little ones. The ones that hang in the corner like they own the dark. Legs too long, body too small, moving wrong. They don’t bite. But they watch. And when the panic hits, that’s what I see: A thousand legs crawling under my skin. 

There are nights where I can’t leave the house. Not because I’m tired. Because the walls breathe, the shadows glitch, and I’m convinced if I step outside, I’ll just unravel. 

Sometimes I just sit. Sometimes I feel like nothing. Sometimes I see my own future—and I don’t like it. Conversations drift into the void. Not aware. Not asleep. Just waiting. Like a daddy long legs in the corner of the ceiling. Silent. Patient. 

When you open Pandora’s box, it’s hard to put the demons back. Chattering like tinnitus when you’re lying in bed staring into the dark. Do you let it in? Or hope it will fade out? 

When the music starts, it’s daylight. The anxiety, the internal screams, the chill down the spine— They go back to sleep. 

Songwriting is where the riffs become the legs I can’t control. The distortion, the twitch I can’t stop. Let the breakdown be the moment I finally fall— And keep falling. On purpose. 

It’s not just a song. It’s the sound of refusing to be prey. Every gallop, every crawl, every off-time kick— It’s me snarling: I’M STILL HERE. STILL SHAKING. STILL FUCKING ALIVE. 

Metal didn’t fix me. But it gave me a web to build instead of one to get caught in. A language for the parts of me that don’t fit anywhere else. The pit. The breakdown. The moment the lights drop, and 200 strangers scream the same fear back at you— That’s not escape. That’s a reclamation. 

I’m not brave. I’m just too stubborn to let the spider win. 

If you’ve ever frozen under the weight of your own legs, this is for you. If you’ve ever let a riff hold you together when the dark tried to pull you apart, this is for you. The Klique is for you. Not fans. Fighters. 

I still see them in the corners. I still shake. But I still play. 

We don’t need to be fearless. We just need to keep moving. One riff. One breath. One scream at a time.