wordlings

pink

I remember when I was 7:

I used to hate loving pink because everyone didn't.
I used to hate my little brain because it over thought things.

How I wish I'd known.

That pink was the most beautiful thing and my mind was the key to life.

Now I'm 17:

I love pink and delicacy but my mind is still screwed.
She's clothed in a saddening dusty brown and waits in cobwebbed corridors for me to come to her.
(i call her but she really is loneliness so she doesn't answer, yet)

How would it feel to sit on the bathroom floor and bathe in red puddles while sinking further away from reality and sensible decisions?

I still wonder and distantly wish, at the same time not.

So much to live for, no zeal for real life but I can't sit still.

I'm really tired, but I'll be fine.