austin-reichold
Hello, / My name is Austin and I'm a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu. My life revolves around cooking and music, but occasionally I like to write. A lot about it has to do with depression, living with it, growing with it, ect. I recently learned that writing is one way to cope with it and I've been enjoying it ever since. I accept any and all criticism, but like I said this is a form of letting go for me. I do wish to extenuate my vocabulary and learn more about writing. So PLEASE leave tips. / Cheers.
These feelings that I get.
Why do I seem so much more content when I'm alone?
Do I just talk out of obligation?
Would I rather have no friends?
Lying on the bathroom floor with empty bottles.
Then you step into my life.
Obstructing everything I believed myself to be.
Joy fills me taking fuel from the conversation.
No longer does it feel like someone is compressing my sternum to form false words.
A thirst for commitment and responsibility fills me.
No longer consumed by the darkness.
Instead clairvoyance emerges.
As if i accumulated a 6th sense previously engulfed by the darkness.
Please stay.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
The place I came from,
Sprouted from the seed of loved ones.
A sapling breaking the surface of the forest floor.
Growing strong, fast, and with vibrant colors.
Weather scared, but not stunned in growth.
Happiness shines and gives strength.
Roots adjust,
making way to another of his likeness.
Their branches reach out, almost beckoning.
Foliage ruffles,
the trees extenuate their feelings, at a cost.
Though they age the don't mature.
Branches ensnaring one another,
Pushing to stay connected,
in tune.
Cracking.
Breaking.
Nothing.
Branches laying on the forest floor,
No longer consumed by each other.
Maturity develops,
And suddenly I'm not so lonely.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC