Memoirs of a discontented teen

The raw thoughts of a discontented teen.

To say I obsess about the past is an understatement. It takes a long time for me to wrap my head around a relationship after it ends.

I'm sitting on the cold hard floor in the bathroom. It's 3:06 in the morning, everybody is asleep and I'm here trying to get through the isolation and depression stage of a breakup. To speed up the process I have my headsets plugged in and I'm listening to melancholy music which is what I normally do when I can't feel or when I've reached the point where I have run out of tears to shed.

Call it manufactured grief or the fast food for my sadness.