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Twenty-one.

i'm twenty-one years old and most days don't seem worth it.

 

growing up i always had the assumption that these feelings would go away.

that life would become more appealing

that my depression and anxiety would finally stop sleeping over.

 

no one ever wants to tell you that you don't grow out of depression.

that you learn to wear it like a second skin

 

they just keep telling you that things will get better

and i want to believe them

 

so i go home

and watch the clock

and day dream about eventually

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Written by
amanda-small
American
Published
May 19, 2015
Lines·Words
11·93
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