It's 1:43 am. May 17th 2017.
Here I am. Trying to write something.
Trying to figure out where do I always go wrong.
Trying to figure out why I think about only those who've left me.
I write as I lay on my bed, my fingers trembling with each word. My body trembling with each thought, leaving me breathless.
Leaving me with an agonising desire, a wanting that nobody seems to satisfy.
My hands go down.
My fingers working where someone else's should be working. Or maybe just mine.
Why do I need someone else?
Am I not enough?
Am I not enough for myself?
