I've mistaken myself as a mistake.

The sounds, bare.
Even as the trees move, silence.


I'm repeating words.
I'm using vocabulary from the first grade.
The images I put on paper are dull.
& I'm glad someone had the balls to tell me the truth.
I've come to my low.
It's weird, to fit in, you have to disapprove of someone else
in order to be "welcomed" into the "it" crowd.
What the hell was I thinking? Who have I become, as a person?
I' am ashamed of myself & the things I've said.
It's fun being broke. Collecting money from my parents to
feed my addiction. I rather smoke than eat.
Even though I'm coughing up half my lung.
I'm happy in the sense of emotion & other people's laughs.
I pretend all the time. But who really notices those things?
It's not fair that every month I go through this alone.
& I protect myself.
& I don't want others to know I'm still struggling.


Happiness is always key.
You choose. You choose your feelings.
I'm trying to hold back...
It's that strong chocking feeling that sticks in the
back of your thoart?
xxx