the overthinker.
the breezy air pulls my hair from behind, and i smiled at the tree above me as i drop my bag recklessly; i lay my uke carefully on the artificial grass in the playground of our school, seeing as there are only a few of us left. i take a short glance at two of my classmates talking to one another as best friends, then sighed and sat down while looking outside.
everyday, i wonder, what makes people want to live? what makes friends close, and how can i keep that bond? but it's always the same answer: you don't.
no one really bothers to talk because i don't speak up. i've been opening up to people i trust in school, and well, it seems as if that's what my therapist would say, if i ever tried therapy, which i haven't, because my parents wouldn't like to know that i'm struggling. i know they're there for me, but i don't like burdening them with my problems because i know they're tired..of me. and i don't see the point of life if we'll all die someday, right? my mind just makes this what-if scenario, like, what if i left? would anyone miss me? did anyone even care? i pondered on that and closed my eyes for a bit.
-l
7.27.2018
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Poetryarchive of laruh's "makata" phase. i've decided this won't be taken down. mainly because i'm lazy go check my bio for where i'm active now. :>
