the strangeness of seventeen sets in as the seasons start to shift i am stuck in the surreal stage of dwindling childhood and attempted adulthood contradicting feelings being meshed into one disconcertingly dysfunctional body i feel i am incapable of fully indulging in either my youth or my approaching adulthood i feel i am incapable of being anything at all
the naïveté of nine has faded with the wood of my windowsill and i am no longer so sure of myself pressures of eighteen loom in my future along with deafening doubts of both my emotional and literal abilities to provide for myself every morning i wake up in twisted bedsheets and wonder whether teenage me is who i always hoped she’d be, or if something went wrong along the winding road of change and growth and weak attempts to be better
so much i wish to do, so many ghosts of the past i wish to crush haunted by the gloom i let in at such a young age, it never truly leaves me i wish i could stop the clock from it’s monotonous tick-tick-ticking and i wish i could stop the sun from disappearing beyond the foggy horizon (i have so much to learn before night falls)
hi, i haven't posted on here in a while but i have been writing a lot + wanted to share some new pieces. enjoy!