I speak my mind,
But not as much
As I wish.
I say the incorrect things.
But not as much
As I say the correct things at the incorrect time.
Perhaps I'm depressive.
But not as much as I am hormonal.
Teenage angst makes me feel as if my issues are huge,
But not as much
As depression and other people say that they mean nothing.
I miss writing.
But not as much
As I miss the way breathing without stress feels.
I love the outdoors,
But not as much
As the anxiety and need to please people loves to keep me indoors.
I love music,
But not as much
As I hate sharing it.
I hate these comparisons.
There's plenty similar ones in my head,
But none of which are as prominent at the moment.
But not as much,
As I hate not telling someone about them.
YOU ARE READING
Vents
RandomPersonal venting place. Probably poetry and relatable rants and such. Idk.