Last Friday I did a very good job of drinking away my anxiety. The sad part was the only person there to see it was my mom.
It took me awhile, but five beers and two hard ciders later I was free.
I’m almost 19 and I’ve already started solving my problems with vices.
I had my *** phase. It treated me no better than any cigarette I bummed. In the end it was all just smoke.
Alcohol made me into something I believed to be better. I smile because I mean it. I don’t shy away From people. But I’ve come to realize that I’m worth more than two shots of ***** and bottle of Mike’s Hard
It’s so easy to forget what’s circling in my brain.
I forgot about school starting in 2 weeks.
I forgot about my friends and why I’ve been feeling that there’s a lack there of.
It is no ones fault but my own. I have no pity for myself.
I’ve refused to believe that taking a pill would vacuum away the half finished poems and the torn up ideas I have in my mind.
It’s become very difficult to explain myself. Most times I wish I didn’t have too.
I’ve never been approachable. I look mean But I promise I’ve always tried to give everything. I always thought that if I said yes then so would others.
I woke up that Saturday at five a.m. Realizing that the world kept moving when mine slowed down. School will still come and so will tomorrow.
Give me a pack of cigarettes Because it’s much easier to wash that smell from my mouth than it is to get these thoughts out.