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.
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...
