Seven Years and Seven Months

Dear Molly,

When you started this blog on September 1st, 2013, you wanted to begin to tell your story to the world. At 15, you couldn't have fathomed the story your teenage and college years would turn out to be. Let's recap.

15: Upheaval.

The first semester of tenth grade managed to chew you up and spit you out. You lost pretty much all motivation to succeed. You lasted two weeks at the school you'd made a conscious decision not to go to, and ended up in a homeschooling program for the remainder of the year. Utter hell. At least this turn of events lead you to start figure skating again. For the first time in eight years, you couldn't go to Girl Scout camp. Instead you had to do summer school, which was a drag and a bore. 

16: Loneliness. 

It's ugly. It's especially ugly when you know that nobody else can relate, by default. It's knowing you shouldn't feel lonely, you're in an accelerated program! You're in orchestra! Yes, but your class schedule is handpicked, and you hate it. New friends were difficult to come by. But academically, you did better. As and Bs in Honors and APs! You aced Spanish. But in the end, you knew you had to flee. Flee from a so-called music teacher who was a bully at best and emotionally abusive at worst.

17: Growth.

Back at the high school where you started, you did better. You had friends, were in a music ensemble that provided both challenge and inspiration, and overall were in a better headspace. You got an A in AP English Lit, and shined in Finite Math. Your first, last, and only math award was your first, last, and only non-obligatory honor in high school. (Thank you, Ms. Schaaf, who will openly express her distaste for the concept of teacher of the year, but earned the Molly Rosenfeld's Math Teacher of the Public School Career award. Her approach to education is: If you want to learn, I'll teach you; if you don't, stop wasting my time. It works.) You really wanted to go away for college, but you agree to start at CSULB, knowing all along your plan is to run fast and far as soon as possible.  

18: Change.

Your first year of college. It was rocky at best. The advising was garbage, and you felt dropped in without a net. With a stroke of bad luck, you had two rather nasty professors your first semester. Your grades reflected this, you finished the year with a GPA so low it was embarrassing. That summer, you were supposed to work at Camp Scherman, but had another breakdown while at training. You seem to have a proven talent for screwing the important things up. You're still working on that. The inadvertent high point of that year was getting a new therapist and being diagnosed with AD/HD. Your academic struggles have a root cause. There's a reason why you struggled so badly. It's nothing you did or didn't do, it's a difference in your brain chemistry. You are wired differently.
 
19: Belonging.

Year two at CSULB, and it was mostly alright. Your classes fall semester were alright. You landed a job as a research assistant in the phonetics lab. Spring semester, you threw yourself into music classes at Bob Cole, ending up with orchestra, choir, steel drums, and piano. You made friends! But your mental health took a definite hit because you were in so many classes. But your grades were respectable. Your grand transfer plans had to wait, but it was a setback you could deal with.

20: Complacency.

This year felt pretty unremarkable. Fall semester classes weren't so hot, physical anthropology with yet another rather nasty professor and a physiology class where you just couldn't keep up, and you dropped both. Spring semester was better. The highlights of the year were definitely skating and playing the Studio Orchestra at Bob Cole. In fact, one Sunday in February, you got to compete in the morning and perform in the evening! Your first national ISI competition, and first orchestra concert not in Long Beach fell on the same weekend, which was fine by you. (Alas, you wound up getting second place out of two for your artistic routine to "Waking Up", and first place out of one for your interpretive/extemporaneous routine to "Thriller". The concert was at a church in Downey.) But your grand transfer plans  were a go!

21: Achievement.

You made it to San Jose State, and overall, had a good time. Three upper division behavioral science courses at once almost did you in at a few points. Music theory is not your forte. But you made friends in orchestra, had a great time in voice class, and enjoyed being away from your family for the first time. 

A Rose: One randomly assigned roommate who you bonded with right away and became your go-to for all things music, a confidant, and one of your favorite people. A Thorn: One randomly assigned roommate who came back at odd hours, would leave lights on when you were trying to sleep, and even let her boyfriend move in on weekends for a month straight. It was disgusting, but one day in February, she just left. You came back to a half-empty room, so it worked out in the end. And your grades were better than ever.

22: Existence.

Well, this is the year the world fell apart with a pandemic. You've been back in Long Beach, taking classes via Zoom, and pretty much just waiting around for things to be normal. You did join the SJSU School of Music Advocacy Committee, and it's great to know you're making a difference. After a 10 month gap, you started back up with ice skating lessons, which does help your overall happiness level. After being kicked to the curb by Camp Scherman this summer after a tense online camp-semblance last year, you impulsively applied to the Girl Scouts of Northern California camps. You're going to be a counselor at Camp Hidden Falls near Santa Cruz, which will be a nice change. And in a year you'll graduate from college, with Bachelor of Arts degrees in Behavioral Science and Music, and a minor in Creative Arts.

And on...

You're closer to 25 than you are to 20, becoming a more adultier adult. There'll be struggles and triumphs, but you're ready to live your best life.

Love,

Molly

Song of the Day: Better by One Republic

Yes. Every day, things are getting better. No matter how sucky the present is, you hold on hope for a bright future.

I don't set alarms
Lately I don't set alarms
But that's because of the ringing that's happening inside my head
Inside my head
Yeah yeah
It keeps me safe from harm
At least I tell myself I'm safe from harm
But really it's probably filling my dreams with dread
So I get out of bed
Yeah yeah
Yes I'm neurotic I'm obsessed and I know it
I can't take vacations and the brain won't believe me I'm on one
Hawaii under warm sun
Yeah yeah

I think I lost my mind
Don't worry about me
Happens all the time
In the morning I'll be better
In the morning I'll be better
Sing it again
I think I lost my mind
But don't worry about me
Happens all the time
In the morning I'll be better
Things are only getting better
Sing it again

I'll tell myself I'll change
That's right I tell myself I'll change
But then I begin to realize that the problems inside my veins
But it's inside my veins (vein)
Yeah yeah
I swear I'm not insane
Yes most likely not insane
Everybody goes through moments of losing their clarity
At least I'm never boring
But I've been losing sleep so call the doctor said take one of these
And call me in the morning

I think I lost my mind
Don't worry about me
Happens all the time
In the morning I'll be better
In the morning I'll be better
Sing it again
I think I lost my mind
But don't worry about me
Happens all the time
In the morning I'll be better
Things are only getting better
Sing it again
Sing it again

So here's the question asked
Of all the things you love the people places from the future to your ancient past
Of every one of those which one will cause you to let it go, let it go
Need to crash

Think you lost your mind
Well don't worry about it
Happens all the time
In the morning you'll be better
Things are only getting better
Sing it again
I think I lost my mind
Don't worry about me
Happens all the time
In the morning I'll be better
In the morning I'll be better
Sing it again
I think I lost my mind
But don't worry about me
Happens all the time
In the morning I'll be better
Things are slowly getting better
Sing it again

December 1st

Dear Molly,

Today is a rough day. And that's okay. There have been rough days before and there will be rough days again. But today might be different. And that's okay. It will be rough, but you will get through it. Online classes are hard. Finals are hard. But you will be alright. You are Molly. You are strong.

From, 

Molly

December 1st, 2020

It's Actually Happening

Dear Molly,

Who'da thunk? Three years after your classmates, it's finally your turn. Long Beach no longer!

Back in 2016, your parents all but forced you to go to Cal State Long Beach. They gave you an ultimatum: CSULB or gap year. You knew being out of school would make you pretty miserable, so your hometown university it was. You had your mind made up. You would attend CSULB for four semesters, long enough to do your general education requirements, and no more. You were ready to let go of the psychological baggage left over from high school.

It was going to be Millikan all over again. You thought you would (proverbially) stand there with a grouchy look on your face and your arms crossed, being perfectly honest about your, ahem, distaste for the institution and how you were eager to leave.

The first year wasn't great. You knew people, dozens and dozens of people,  but that didn't mean you had friends. You began your post-secondary academic career subscribing to "Cs get degrees".

Things did get better. You made friends! As usual, you meet the best people through music. But you knew you needed out.

And in August, you finally made it to San Jose State University. It was a pretty good semester and a half, but COVID 19 forced you home. You're looking forward to going back. 

 Molly

Don't Tell Me I'm Fine

Dear Molly,

This is undoubtedly going to be a hard entry to write. Having to consider the balance between your writer's brain with a never ending flow of words and your sensitive, soulful, please-everyone-at-all-costs state of mind is no simple task.

The point of this blog is to not hold back. That once you hit that Publish button, your words are etched in stone for all of the immediate world to see. Well, digital but permanent stone.

Ki va moed; the time is now, to say what needs to be said. The world needs to listen.

Don't.
Tell.
Me.
I'm.
Fine.

Hear those five little words, loud and clear. Take them in. Turn them over in your mind.

Are they harsh? Absolutely. Can they be sugarcoated? But of course.

Dissect them.

   
Don't: Avoid. Refrain. Stop.
Tell: Say. Speak. Convince.
Me: The Writer; Molly Rosenfeld.
I’m:  The current state of one's being.
Fine: Acceptable. Satisfactory. Alright.

So, what should you say instead?

You. 

Will. 

Be.
Fine.

*********************************************************

You'll never forget the first time someone told you those words when you were in the throes of despair, hating yourself, and thinking that the universe hated you back.

2014. For all intents and purposes, you had been kicked out of Millikan after a mere two weeks, and sent to the dumping ground that is Opportunities for Learning Public Charter Schools. You were, in a word, miserable. Being stuck at home with your own feelings of self-loathing keeps you locked in a depression. A deep, dark hole that you've fallen into and can't escape.

While waiting for your parents to pick you up after a meeting with your independent study adviser, you struck up a conversation with a girl. You explain your anguish, and it felt so good to get it out. She's missing her hair, and explains that she has alopecia. And she tells you that you have a good head on your shoulders, and that she believes in you. You can't even remember her name, but she's one of your heroes.

You're sent back to Millikan for your junior year, and slowly, you start to become aware of your own inner strength. You fall down, and get back up. You stumble a bit, and stand up stronger than before. (As it happens, your parents once gave you a bracelet engraved with: Fall Seven Times, Stand Up Eight. Physically impossible, but the sentiment is true.)

In fact, last Spring, on the eve of two tests, you were feeling pretty low, and posted this on Facebook: 

It's been a rough week, and it's only Wednesday. And I have two tests tomorrow. Woot woot. I need some genuine encouragement. I'm not here to fish for compliments, so I'm proposing a challenge. Give me a compliment and I'll pay you back in-kind. And better still, pass it on. This world could use a happy boost!

Here are some responses: 

You are vulnerable=brave! 
Trust me when I tell you that you know more than you think you know! You've totally got this!
Your positivity, great sense of humor, and intelligence will lead the way. You got this!

Trust you are the woman who can conquer your challenges. I know you are. Remember your strength!
You're an excellent student and extremely capable.

You have always been one of the smartest people I know.
You're one of the strongest people I know. You got it girl!!

You’re strong and I appreciate your undying honesty and love.

*********************************************************

One of your most prized possessions is a gift from a stranger. It's a "giving key", engraved with STRENGTH.

You'll always remember the circumstances of how you acquired it. Mid-July, 2017. You were supposed to be at Camp Scherman. Instead, you were, for the most part, moping at home. You went to the ice rink in an attempt to cheer yourself up, only to remember that Lakewood ICE was hosting the ISI World Recreational Team Championships, so there weren't any public sessions that week. You offer to help out by being a "music runner", and then get chastised for being too chatty when going back and forth with CDs. Being told you're volunteering wrong was enough to make you cry. A women pulls you aside, asks you what's going on, and tells you everything will be okay. She gives you the key on a  necklace, the same one her daughter has, and you cry a little more, grateful for her generosity. 

You often wear it around your neck with a peace sign charm that Sam gave you. Chazak and shalom!

Chazak, chazak v'neit hazeck! Be strong, be strong, and we will be strengthened.

Love,
Molly

At the End of the Day, I'm Grateful

Dear Molly,

It has always ticked you off a tad when people say "I'm blessed" and all the variants. Sure, the religious overtones irk you. But it's more than that.

It's partially how people toss it around. We say "Bless you" when someone sneezes (but that's another story) and when we're going on a tangent thanking someone. When we're wishing someone good luck. And as a teenager in whatever context.

Good ol' Merriam-Webster tells us:

Bless

transitive verb

1. religion : to hallow or consecrate by religious rite or word

2. religion : to hallow with the sign of the cross

3. to invoke divine care for

bless your heart—used in the phrase bless you to wish good health especially to one who has just sneezed

4a. praise, glorify

b. to speak well of: approve

5. to confer prosperity or happiness upon

6.archaic : protect, preserve

7. endow, favor

You usually don't feel blessed, in any sense of the word. More often, you feel cursed. You were cursed with depression and anxiety. You were cursed with a crap hand with music education in your younger years. You were cursed with a high school experience that played out like a bad telenovela. You were cursed with a rocky (at best) start to college.

Maybe you were blessed with a loving family. Innate intelligence. A caring nature. A desire to overcome. Who knows?

But at the end of the day, you're grateful. You're grateful you had a happy childhood. You're grateful for your analytical mind that can't take anything at face value. You're grateful for your friends who love you for you. You're grateful that you've found your passions early in life. 

More than anything, you're grateful that your past doesn't have to define your future. And your future is bright.  

Song of the Day: Kaleidoscope by Coldplay

Okay, this is more like half a song. It's a poem that is read on a track of a Coldplay album.

Either way, it captures the sentiment nicely: Life is going to have ups and downs, but you should embrace every moment.

this being human is a guest house
every morning a new arrival
a joy, a depression, a meanness
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor

welcome and entertain them all!

be grateful for whoever comes
because each has been sent
as a guide

Love,

Molly

Onward and Upward

Dear Molly,

Five years and one month ago, you made a decision that changed your life. You were going to give the world a warning label: This is Molly. Be gentle.

And did it work? It did, indeed.

Somehow, you've made it through four semesters of college. You're officially an upperclassman! Where did time go? You find yourself posing that question in about every other blog entry. Time is a peculiar thing.

Well, it's been awhile since your last entry chronicling life events. Thirteen months, an entire school year, two semesters and a summer session. What's happened? What's changed?

Well, you made it a solid five months without any serious depression issues. And then the depression hit again in March, and it hit hard. And this time, it came with anxiety. Crippling anxiety.

You added on a bunch of extra classes when you realized you'd fallen behind on units. And it was brutal. Three actual classes: Language Acquisition, Listener's Approach to Music, and Human Development. Medical Terminology, which is a prerequisite for occupational therapy graduate school. One unit, an instructor who was a cool person but didn't do much instructing, 7 page worksheet packets due weekly, and frustration spent trying to remember all of the chole/o words. Piano I, which was two hours a week's worth of a battle between your brain and your chunky, chubby, cocktail weenie cellist fingers. Three performing ensembles. Basketball and Weight Training, 'cause units for exercise. And the seminar attached to your research assistant position. 9 different classes. Never again.

You kept yourself together during the weeks, but you could barely get out of bed on the weekends. As usual, you didn't seem to be getting along with normal circadian rhythm patterns. You're actively trying to fix that.

By some miracle, your grades were the best they've ever been in college. Yes, Cs do get degrees, but you're not a fan of being in the middle of the bell curve. Your GPA was 3.35. 7th grade Molly would no longer be quite so appalled.

And guess what? You've made friends!

You've become closer to a handful of Beach Hillel people. And sadly, two of you favorites just graduated. Lea, a fellow "I've got a minor because I'm multi-faceted" person is off to dance for the world. Julia is about to embark on a career in health care administration, which is a path you could never take and admire those who do immensely. And sadly, Rachel and Drew Kaplan moved to Ohio.

And there's your Little Ling Lab Family. You're the wide eyed one, Irene's the cool older sister, Coleen's the glue (with a knack for getting us all distracted), and Bianca's the rebel. You're happy that you'll still get to work with them, as you'll be volunteering in the lab when you can. And there's some new lab people too! No monetary compensation, but no seminar either. You'll take it.

You threw yourself into music. You pretty much took up residence at Bob Cole Conservatory. Music History, Piano, Orchestra, Chorus, and Steel Drums. And friends! People there actually like you. Music majors enjoy your company, and take you seriously as a cellist. You still struggle with thinking of yourself as a legitimate musician, but it's almost there.

Back in the beginning of the fall 2017 semester, you attended a music education "rally". And that choice to mingle over free pizza changed the trajectory of your year. By adding a music minor and hanging around the conservatory with a locker and practice room of your own, you now have more musician friends than you've ever thought possible.

In Beach Orchestra this past spring, there were four cello performance majors, one music education major, and one vocal major who also plays cello. And Andrew, Angel, Emily, Erika, Mariah, and Paola accepted you as one of their own. You've even found a same-age cello best friend in Emily. When you first met her 18 months ago, you thought she was pretentious. Since then, you've come to find she has a sense of humour akin to your own, is also reasonably cuddly(most cellists aren't), and shares the same chunky cello fingers. Oh, how perceptions change.

You've reconnected with some old friends from both Poly and Millikan through orchestra and choir. All were happy to see you again, especially now that you're feeling like your semi-normal self for the first time in years, not a strange depressed version. That honestly came as a surprise. People genuinely like you: faults, flaws, mistakes, insecurities, anxieties and all.

You've befriended composition, vocal, piano, jazz, brass, woodwind and percussion people, and even a few graduate students. You even took the train up to San Luis Obispo to visit Megan, the literal calm to your figurative storm.

Sadly, your grand transfer plans got delayed. Yet another dream deferred. It is what it is.

This semester has been rough so far with physiology, but you're in a good place mentally. And hopefully it'll stay that way.

Song of the Day:
Marchin On by OneRepublic.
You're putting one foot in front of the other, every single day. And you always will.

For those days we felt like a mistake
Those times when loves what you hate
Somehow
We keep marching on

For those nights that I couldn't be there,
I've made it harder to know that you know
That somehow
We'll keep movin' on

There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

For all of the plans we made
There isn't a flag I'd wave
Don't care where we've been
I'd sink us to swim
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

For those doubts that swirl all around us
For those lives that tear at the seams
We know
We're not what we've seen

Oh for this dance we move with each other
There ain't no other step than one foot
Right in front of the other

There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

For all of the plans we made
There isn't a flag I'd wave
Don't care where we've been
I'd sink us to swim
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on

Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, marchin' on

We'll have the days we break
And we'll have the scars to prove it
We'll have the bombs that we saved
But we'll have the heart
Not to lose it

For all of the times we've stopped
For all of the things I'm not

You put one foot in front of the other
We've move like we ain't got no other
We go where we go we're marchin' on
Marchin' on

There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on (marching oh)
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right
Marchin' on (we're marchin' on)
We're marchin' on
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right, left
Right, right, right, right
Marchin' on (oh oh oh)

Love,
Molly

The Tripod

Dear Molly,

It's time that you go back and discuss the original topic of this blog: Mental Illness.

Back when you started this blogging journey, your diagnosis was singular: Major Depressive Disorder. Following your nervous breakdown in February of 2014, a quack psychiatrist slapped you with a Bipolar Disorder II diagnosis. The events that could be described as a manic episode were medication-induced. And the insomnia was the cause of the behavioral changes. Not sleeping was not a side effect of mania. The lack of sleep WAS the problem. You accept a label of Mood Disorder: Not Otherwise Specified, and write a blog entry about it.

At some point, you more or less self diagnose Anxiety, confirmed by your therapist at the time. You attended a group for teenage girls with Social Anxiety, but it became pretty clear that it wasn't your biggest issue, not by a long shot. You're just lovably socially awkward, and working on being less so. And a bit of a homebody at times, but aren't we all? Generalized Anxiety is a more accurate term. But your depression has always posed a much bigger problem than your anxiety. You tend to get anxious that you'll get depressed. Horrible, isn't it?

Around this time last year, you start seeing a new and extremely well-qualified therapist, who brings up an intriguing question. Do you have Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder? Of course, the initial response is: What? No! You can focus with the best of them, and you're not really hyperactive. However, you learn that there are actually multiple forms and manifestations of AD/HD.

The TOVA diagnostic test was truly awful. To keep yourself occupied, you sang camp songs the entire time. You are confirmed to have a type called "Over Focused". It basically means that you can have trouble shifting your attention, and tend to get stuck in repetitive thought patterns. And if the task at hand isn't holding your interest, you can direct 100% of your brain power elsewhere, to something you know you're not supposed to be doing. It does come with the added bonus of being a better multi-tasker than most. You'll take it.

Some people refuse labels, but they comfort the pragmatist in you. You're not broken. There's a name (or three, as the case may be) for what you're experiencing. But you can't tolerate the inaccurate labels. While it's true that you don't like the stigma attached to some problems, it's important that the label is correct so the symptoms can be treated. It was incredibly frustrating to find out that you were given an Autism Spectrum Disorder through seeing the Disabled Student Services paperwork for college. You learn that it was for simplicity's sake, and so that all of the possible help is available to you, even though you'll never need most of it. The bottom line is that you're not autistic. Making eye contact and understanding sarcasm and such are not problems for you, just the social awkwardness that you're working on every day. And you have Major Depression, not Bipolar Disorder.

You still take meds. It's been a long road. You have a lengthy list of prescription drugs that don't help or are unnecessary in treating your symptoms: Lexapro, Prozac, Wellbutrin, Abilify, Zoloft, and  probably something else you're forgetting. That med trail was a disaster of epic proportions. You could even pin the blame on the disaster that was tenth grade on the anti-depressants.

The worst part of it was the weight gain: About 25 pounds. Thankfully you've lost it through switching meds and getting more exercise with skating. The drug that's been working is actually a mood stabilizer, not an antidepressant. It's called Lamictal. You're also prescribed Adderall for the AD/HD, which does help. It's not so much that you feel a difference when you take it. You just notice when you don't take it.

You've accepted the fact that you're not deemed 'normal' by societal standards. You have this tripod underneath you, holding you up. It might have held you back in the past, but not any more. Sure, you could let it tie you down in the future, but that's not going to happen. You're going to keep fighting, every single day.

Song of the Day: The Greatest, by Sia
Sure, you've ran out of breath time and time again, closing your eyes to not feel the pain. But now, you've got stamina. And you sure as hell won't give up. You've certainly hit the lowest of lows, but now, you're free to be the greatest alive.

Uh-oh, running out of breath, but I Oh, I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, running now, I close my eyes
Well, oh, I got stamina
And uh-oh, I see another mountain to climb
But I, I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, I need another lover, be mine
Cause I, I, I got stamina

Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no
Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive
I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest
The greatest, the greatest alive
The greatest, the greatest alive

Well, uh-oh, running out of breath, but I
Oh, I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, running now, I close my eyes
But, oh oh, I got stamina
And oh yeah, running through the waves of love
But I, I got stamina
And oh yeah, I'm running and I've just enough
And uh-oh, I got stamina

Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no
Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive
I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest
The greatest, the greatest alive
The greatest, the greatest alive (oh oh)

Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo ooh)
Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo ooh)
Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo ooh)
Oh-oh, I got stamina (ooh hoo)

Ay, I am the truth
Ay, I am the wisdom of the fallen, I'm the youth
Ay, I am the greatest
Ay, this is the proof
Ay, I work hard, pray hard, pay dues, ay
I transform with pressure, I'm hands-on with effort
I fell twice before, my bounce back was special
Letdowns'll get you, and the critics will test you
But the strong'll survive, another scar may bless you, ah

Don't give up (no no), I won't give up (no no)
Don't give up, no no no (nah)
Don't give up, I won't give up
Don't give up, no no no

I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive
I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)

The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (don't give up, don't give up, don't give up, no no no)
The greatest, the greatest alive (I got stamina)
The greatest, the greatest alive (I got stamina)
The greatest, the greatest alive (I got stamina)

Love, Molly