Writing

I want to let go.

God it felt great to write. I haven't written in so long. I feel that it's almost liberating. But there's thoughts that stop me. Like last post when I thought no one would read this. It made me say fuck it, what the hell am I doing on here anyway.

Well, Fuck that.

I'm here to write because to write means to write to write to write. It doesn't matter why I write. It matters that I feel better when I write. So i'll write, to write, to write.

Someone need not tell me how I like to use phrases not so common anymore. Despite if they're out of grammar or context. The way I write makes me feel damn good.

My father, I haven't seen or spoken to you in a month, I love you. I hope you're okay.

I don't care much for my family much anymore i'm finding. Ever since they found out about Ember, it made me disgusted to be around them. I fucking hate their pity and awkward lectures. I've heard it all ladies and gentlemen, I don't need to find the words from the last 100 people in the ones that I love. I'd rather live a lie hearing that you support my decisions of loving her.

I'm starting to get tired
of the things from the liars

The time I spend
Forgetting life
just trying to mend
A quilt already sewn

I forget the past
because my mind finds it
hollow
rotten

So take my hand
and smoke a drug
while I lay on the ground
mad
broken
and sad.