21 Feb 2015
It's hard to breathe and my skin prickles with goosebumps yet the day was hotter before. Leaning against the wardrobe with tears silently streaming down my face, Bring me the horizon playing out of the speakers of my phone. I want to leave. Not die. Well maybe. I want to travel and live. Take photos, wear clothes that don't suit me, drive through the country side, go to concerts, stay in hotels, love someone, have someone to love me back, eat at fancy places, get high, drink, dance, cliff jump, kiss someone, climb the Sydney harbour bridge, get a tattoo, tell toxic people to get out of my life, dance on top of my car, drive around aimlessly, get McDonald's at 2am, see huge city lights, buy shoes, explore abandoned places, roll in snow, make a dream catcher, visit bora bora, be in a movie, slow dance with someone, ride on a chairlift, learn to play guitar, go on a road trip, walk through a pine forest, bake a three tier cake, drink fresh milk, go to a club, visit America, watch Harry potter, learn how to pick a lock, fly in a plane, make memories, be proud of my life and myself.
YOU ARE READING
The recollection of my misunderstood thoughts.
PoetryLife's a struggle and it's hard. There's nothing you can do. Just get trough it. I hate my life. There's nothing new. But when the sun is out and the sky is void of clouds you can't help but feel a smile is overdue
