I've never hated myself more than I hate myself right now. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think about the possibility that I would feel lonely in the place I felt the most happy. Right now, I am nothing more than a girl who spends her time Asking herself what's wrong with her? What part in her body that needs to be cured and what place is she the most comfortable? She's lonely. And loneliness seemed to eat all her energy, she wanted nothing more than to disappear and die and be forgotten and be erased in the world and from the memories of people. Maybe this would make her feel happy. Maybe this is her place she's the most comfortable at. Maybe this is the cure to her loneliness. She doesn't really know. Not anymore.
A/N: I don't know how to talk without shedding a tear. I thought writing it would prevent my tears from escaping it's prison but I guess all of this is just too much.
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My Art Is Spending My Time On The Beach
Poetry"MY ART IS SPENDING MY TIME ON THE BEACH" is my own personal collection of thoughts that I had written while stuck in a place that's both full and empty of something that I think I am bound to discover eventually. I am still wondering why a place li...
