It's March; I can't blame the January blues.
The nights aren't as dark as they once were, it feels hopeful. Sometimes I even smile, feel real, touch reality for a second. It's not that bad, (I tell myself) until I can't get out bed. Until I cry at the TV. I can't be alone in a room. I cant fathom them being away from me. I can't be alone. Every thought becomes my new obsession.
I wish to just exist without the effects. But my brain doesn't occupy its self well. Not enough to trust with our time.
Maybe, I am inherently prone to this feeling. This stress, these thoughts, my feelings. I gag and heave, yet still they rumble in my belly until eventually I puke them up and reveal the putrid remains of me insides to the world.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/336997516-288-k893843.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Memoirs Of Youth
PoetryThe most prevalent and perhaps my favourite of the thoughts that pass... Slight bit of obsession, attachment issues, Dad's gone to the shop, i don't like feeling, for some reason can't deal with emotions? slight PTSD, wub a lub a dub dub, recovering...