Thoughts on a daily

A letter to my younger self

Dear me,

We are not where we want to be

Matter of fact I don't think we might get there

I've lost hope

I'm just surviving

Sometimes I think I'd be better of dead

Probably someone who still has hope might find my life useful

I really don't know what I want to do

We had so many dreams

But as everyday passes by

The farther the dreams seem

I wish I could be hopeful

But that would just be me lying

If it brings any solitude

I still write

I still get ideas

But then they are just ideas

As I never see myself actually bringing them to life

We haven't still gone to the university

It's been three years

And I don't think we will

And then I don't think I want to be a nurse anymore

We have anxiety

We get really anxious in a large crowd

I'd say we get depressed time to time

We're always smiling

It's our coping mechanism

I wouldn't say we hate our life

But we don't like it either

We're never allowed to go any where

Just church

We don't really believe in God anymore

We're always thinking

As much as we try not to

The moment we're not with our headphones

The voices in our head gets louder

We barely have friends

We're so lonely

We feel caged

I'd have asked how you're doing

But then i already know

I wish I could comfort

and tell youIt'd be alright

But again that would be me lying

Cause it really just gets worst

I dread waking up

And when I do wake up

I'm always angry

I really want to leave home

I don't know to where

But I just want to leave

Hang in there

Maybe it might get better

Maybe it might not

I really don't know

Yours truly,

You