Thinking of them hurts. The shadows remind me of them running jumping and singing through a room filled with darkness bringing and spreading light. They hop skip and wash through fields of flowers and try to pick and gift them to the kindest people they know. They brought happiness to me. They made me think about anything other than my disgusting life. They stopped the tears flowing onto my pillows. Now instead of a group I have a few people very different and not in any sort of connection to one another. They each give me a specific reason to keep going. Get up in the morning. To not cry. To stay strong. I'm constantly reminded by the demons that crowd my head that crying is weakness. Guys don't cry. That's dumb. Guys have to be strong. Guys have to break through the barrier that is sadness keep it to themselves and solve it because they have to care for others. That's what makes you a guy or man or whatever the hell they say.You have to be tall and strong and the width of a stick to make anyone happy. You have to enjoy sport and always be with other guts who follow the same regime. Blocking all of it out so I can meet new people I enjoy and rely on them. I don't have to be strong. I can't be vunerable. But not to them. The ones that make me happy. If I do I'm not good enough. I'm an attention seeker. I'm a dirty two faced piece of shit and I don't deserve to be wasting oxygen on this hell hole we still decide to call a planet. This is why I plaster a fake smile on my blank doll of emotion that I hate with a passion. This is why I cry to my pillow when I'm alone. This is why I slam my fist into a wall at any chance I get. This is why I hide myself.
Goodnight,
My demons.
YOU ARE READING
My Thoughts
AcakI write about what i think about, alot i wont publish some Will show up and disappear some never will
