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ˢᵒˡⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ ᵇʸ: ᵇⁱˡˡⁱᵉ ʰᵒˡⁱᵈᵃʸ
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I sit on my window sill looking out at the mucky early October rain wondering how the hell I got here. I take a sip of my over sweetened coffee. I always preferred it over tea. My mother always told me being with people made you feel better. I disagree. Maybe my solitude is the thing that made me feel better. One of my friends called me insensitive because I liked being alone more than hanging out with her. Fuck you Katie.
I never really liked her anyways. I look at all the leaves falling to the ground. This was my favorite kind of weather. The fall breeze, the rain, the leaves. You could just imagine it. I long to sit here in more peace and the noise of rain before my sister started calling me. I pick up the phone putting it to my ear. My little sister Grace. She is 12 years old and One Direction obsessed. She keeps nagging me on about buying her concert tickets which my mom and dad refuse to get. So someone has to rely on the rich sister doesn't she? I tell her i'll think about it before hanging up and stare out the window again.
I drink some more coffee before sighing and leaning my head on the window. I got down with my tour in June but still trying to get but i'm still trying to get used to being home again. I started making another album and it comes out this 27th. It's my first pop album. I sigh after a couple minutes of thinking before calling my sister back.
" Let's do it ", I say to her hearing her squeal before hanging up again.
Alone. Maybe I should get a dog. No a cat. Maybe I should try and find a boyfriend. No i'm already getting plastered as a whore. Maybe I should disappear . Alone. With my thoughts. Silence . That's all I want . I sit and watch the sky turn a darker grey as the rain picked up. Grey. It's almost like my whole world is grey. Everything. Everyone. Alone. Silence. The words play at the back of my head as I stare out the window. I go to therapy. I'm not damaged. I'm not broken. But for whatever reason, I feel like I am. I don't need fixing but... I feel like I do. I write music. It's not like I want to die. But some part of me, or the whole of me, wants to. I don't need a man to comfort me and give me emotional support. But that's what my heart wants.
