The smoke is filling every square inch of this room like the water over flooding my bathtub I've tempted to drown my thoughts in but soon come up for air when I realize I suck at dying and if I was ment to kill myself wouldn't it of happened by now? I mean everything happens for a reason right? That's what my moms pastor told me last Sunday and a part of me thinks that's true, but then this small part of me I think that's bullshit.
I sometimes think about how us as people are intensely fascinated and fearful of the unknown so we tend to make things up in our heads to make sense of every wrong thing that's happened to us and I don't know whether that's good or bad but its something, right? The crippling fear that all our lives could be some joke or a little aliens science project for school blows my mind in a sense. How can I believe in only one thing? I believe in so many things and its a mess up in the nest of my mind but its so damn beautiful I think. To believe in many things, and I know it all condredicts each other but in some sort of unbelive way I believe in everything
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teenage fools
PoetryI write poetry about life, death, love, hurt, depression, and basically everything.
