𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝

eighty

Memories

I look back at my past and I began to cry. I question why I was never good enough. Why I wasn't reason enough. Now here I am writing to no one in particular, not because I'm scared to be known but because I have no one to write to... So bear with me, no one as I fill these pages with my sorrow's in ink the same color of my childhood room where these unforgettable sorrows take place.

As I write about my past I question my sanity, talking out loud when no one is there, and I think, it is only a matter of time before I snap. So just know I'm writing with a beer in my hand and this pen that spews pink ink in the other waiting for it to come.

I looked back at my past and although I cherish the happy times, they were always corrupted somehow. And I always see how. Playing pool at the pub it was beer. My 13th birthday party where he left it in the middle of it and didn't come back, it was work. Work and drinking came up for everything, including me. But now that I'm gone I crave for just one good memory, just one that isnt corrupted, but that is asking too much now.

I look back at my past, and I realize that you can't ask for too much. Also that you can't have high expectations. Because when you expect too much, and are let down, it feels as if you were pushed off of something with great height, and you are falling. Then you finally hit the ground and the air is stolen from your lungs.

I look back at my past and realize that I asked for too much and expected too much. And this is me hitting rock bottom. The air has left my lungs but my heart is fighting to pump blood. My body won't give up on me but my spirit has.

Now when I think of you instead of happiness all I see is corruption...