It seems like my life was so much simpler when we first moved into this house. I shared a room with my sister, a king sized mattress taking up most of the room. I read Fangirl, one of the best things I've read to this day. I was reading The Bad Boy Stole My Bra, the first thing I ever read on wattpad, still one of the best. I still remember finishing it, it was around 5 in the morning, I had my earbuds in, listening to Bebe Rexha, I Don't Wanna Grow Up, I was crying so hard I could barely see what I was reading. Trying to keep quiet, my left arm hanging off the bed, holding my phone, my right cheek being the only thing keeping my face from falling to the floor. I scroll down... that was it, that was the end, the book was done. My mind and heart start racing. This can't be the end, I think, this can't be over, there has to be more. I start crying even harder if that was even possible at that point. I wanted more but I knew it was over.
So there I was laying in bed, sobbing as quiet as possible. I turn my phone off, still listening to music, just thinking. I couldn't get to sleep after that and before I knew it the sun was rising. I heard my dad wake up and in a panic, I threw my earbuds to the floor and turn to face the wall. Since my door was open, I knew he would see my right when he opened his. I close my eyes and fall asleep.
But that wasn't the point of me writing this. The point was that from just a little before that to about a year ago I would say, that was the peak of my life so far. During that time, I got really close with one of my now best friends, I read most of my favorite books. The music I listened to made me smile. I was just really really happy.
Then a lot of shit happened. Don't get me wrong a lot of things still make me happy, I love my friends and the music I listen to. But my life just isn't the same. It's too complicated. I don't feel the same. A lot of stupid, dramatic shit has shown up in my life, and I guess I caused it but I didn't mean to. It feels like everything just happens before my eyes and when something is wrong I don't know how to make it right.
Nothing I've read lately has been the same, made me feel the same. Not that any of it is bad, I think the majority of what I read is good, it just doesn't feel the same, it doesn't make me as happy as reading used to.
I'm not saying I hate my life. I'm just saying the life I'm living right now doesn't seem to have a purpose. I don't feel like this is worth living.
I just wish I could go back to when my sister and I shared a temporary room upstairs with a king sized mattress and boxes all over the floor. Where you had to tiptoe to get to the other side. I wish I could go back to when my summer was so much simpler. When my life was so much simpler.
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The Bad Boy Stole My Bra by Cherry_Cola_X
http://my.w.tt/UiNb/UgGddloG2D
