You know what I always ask myself, how much different would my life had been if I would've tried drugs, if I would've kept smoking?
How much different would my life have been if I would have kissed that boy, if I would have gave him my virginity when I was thirteen.
Or even what would my life had been if he would have continued to touch me, if he didn't stop.
I constantly ask myself these questions, because I'm constantly reminded how fucking miserable I am in my own skin, not because my life was necessarily hard, but because I constantly felt like I would never amount to anything.
I wonder what my life would have been like if I would have passed out that night I tried to kill myself; would I still be alive, or would my mom have found me laying in that bath tub with blue skin, blank eyes.
Would she even remember, would she even care?
I wish I wasn’t like this.
** A year later and I don't feel like this anymore.
Re reading those feelings and that sorrow pains me, I feel empty and I look at that person and don't even recognize her.
Who was she?
What caused her to feel like that, that night?
I don't quite understand these waves I get and that night a tsunami came in and drowned me.
I was low.
I am high now.
I'm now on a helicopter waving those waves goodbye.
I don't wanna drown anymore.
I am working on my self, because those waves are so deep.
And I don't want to go to war anymore.