It's Christmas and everything is different. We open presents at a different time now. We act different around each other. I can't say anything with out being bombarded by judgmental looks or remarks. I'm getting judged because I don't remember my mother. Me. I'm the one getting judged. Everyone is sharing happy memories of the people I don't remember. Making me realize that I didn't grow up having those memories. And now I'm alone in a room crying while I hear everyone else laughing, not noticing I'm gone.
YOU ARE READING
Depressing Stuff
PoetryIn the title, mostly me just venting about life... I write all of these if it's not mine I'll say so *spelling corrections coming soon
