I think back to last summer when everything seemed okay,
but just under the surface, everything wasn't.
I wasn't truly happy with anything.
I'd stay out of the house till 3 a.m. with the boys,
getting high and pretending I was an explorer.
I lost so many people that summer, but still had the boys,
we'd get high every night
so high it was like we were forever stuck in the clouds.
I got addicted to nicotine that summer, the bitter taste of sadness in my mouth and reminders of everything bad.
I turned to getting high and nicotine instead of self harm and thought everything would be better.
But I was wrong.
I wanted a cigarette again and again and again.
I wanted to be high again and again and again.
I was still harming myself all over again,
I didn't care and neither did the boys as long as I was chilling with them it didn't matter about our health.
And I think that's why I got so lost last summer,
because I found friends that didn't care,
I didn't care.