I'm not having fun,
My word is hushed just as fast as it was back home.
I am quiet
I listen endlessly
I respond when asked.
My depression has me by my throat.
I want to explore my new home.
I'm tired of sitting in a house that's hotter than it is outside
I'm tired of falling asleep because I'm bored
I hate this.
I miss the stars
I miss late night walks with my friends
I hate that to occupy my time here all I do is smoke *** and play video games
I hate that my only friends here don't really talk to me.
I'm talked at, expected to listen.
When I have a chance to speak,
When my words are worth hearing
My sadness, my disparity, my bitter loneliness
Becomes a spring board to why they're unhappy
Becomes a reason to tell me my ego is the reason I'm sad
If I killed myself, they'd be legitimately confused
"He seemed happy"