why the actual fuck am i sitting here in my new house, in my room, on my huge memory foam bed, with my own tv, my favorite tv series playing, with my own cat beside me,
trying to imagine I was sitting in my old room?
why the actual fuck am i trying to remember what the carpet looked like
like my life depends on it
why does it matter what my bed looked like when I left?
why did i choose to sleep on the floor instead of my mattress?
why did i have mementos of friends i forgot pasted onto my wall?
why am i trying to think of all the places i hid things from my mom?
how come i can see all those rooms so fucking vividly
the way the light comes in in the morning, to when the streetlights shine on the blinds at night
the sprinklers outside come on at 1am
and 3am
every day, in the summer.
i can still feel the pole of those streetlights under my fingertips
i can still feel the last time she hugged me
for some reason i keep thinking of the wash rags in that house
will i ever walk on a sidewalk the same way?
i am insane
im not even choosing to think of these things, they just pop up
and then i connect more things to those things
and its a never ending cycle
why cant i
just
fucking
move
on?
will i ever move on?
will i always wake up in the morning and think the sounds in the kitchen are my mother?
will i always remember all the songs you like?
will i ever go to the smokeshop and fear that your car is there
even though we took it from you?
please tell me, will these things EVER get out of my head?
