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My bedroom holds bad memories for me now.
I feel like that stupid girl I claimed I would never become.
And I can only blame myself.
Because you never mentioned forever, hearts, or that useless emotion named love...
So then, how did I become so undone by a smile, attention, and a few playful words?
Why couldn't I see how disposable I was to you?
Afterwards, I shatter.
Unfazed, you move on taking a piece of me with you.
And I'm left haunted by the question, can I only blame myself for being broken?
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Looking back, I think I wanted an escape.
I wanted to grab hold of a piece of happiness, to evade my inner sorrow, but I should have known better.
I should have known that dreams turn into ash.
And this was just one more fantasy that crumpled through my fingers.
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YOU ARE READING
Seeing the World Through Blue
Non-FictionI never really thought of myself as depressed. Hell, my family certainly didn't talk about mental health. But even as a child, I've just always felt different, like there was a separation between me and the world. Imagine being an observer of your...
