I can't focus but here it goes.
I remember Henry saying
My life is stale and colorless.
Dead, the world has always been an empty place to me and I couldn't enjoy the simplest things, I felt dead in everything I did.
I relate to him though I wish I didn't.
I wish I could talk to him and tell him that he's not alone and there's someone else in the world that feels exactly the same way as him.
Some people are just born to suffer, some have it easy and complain about how steady their lives are..
I just listen and think
Oh how nice it would be
For my life to be like that
For my life to be normal
And predictable
And just quiet...
YOU ARE READING
Haunted |+18|
PoetryA letter of all the things I cannot say out loud but am constantly thinking and being haunted by. Dark content used in the story Read at your own risk
