There's this sedimented anger that burns beneath my calm and collected aura. And this anger terrifies me.
What is scarier? Is that I'm the only one who sees it.
I don't know the source. And I don't know which outlet can get rid of it. Hell, I don't even know how to navigate it anymore- Because despite attempting to put it out in the most therapeutic way (writing) it still remains. Need a new outlet form. Need to try something else. Probably a vacation. Probably worship. Probably working out. Probably therapy.
YOU ARE READING
'19' Last Days Of Being a Teenager |Memoir
Non-FictionNotes on Coming Of Age and stuff.