Existence Undermined by Hesitation

Biting my nails, I am alone. Alone in dark room unsure if it exists, longing for music. There has to be a life out there waiting for me, so much bigger than this quasi-existent dark room and ragged nails. I have to be able to go somewhere. I have to be able to live. Every word out of my mouth will be nothing but cliche unless I have my own experiences to turn into words. Every song I attempt to write will be nothing but lies unless I go out and get a broken heart to write about. My problem is hesitation. It always has been. I always think of the right thing to say a split-second too late, or I spend too long second-guessing what I feel and I miss telling someone. And I'm left, cursing my sluggish mouth, as they walk by. Left alone, to bite my nails in this dark room, not knowing what's real.