24 Nov 2014
Looking up at the now grey ceiling illuminated by the moonlight I feel tears of a certain bittersweet happiness threaten to spill. Every now and then the lightning strikes somewhere to the south and my room lights up as if it were day. Intro by the XX blasting through my earphones as I let this lost but comforting feeling wash over me like the rain washes over the mistreated concrete outside. The mistreated concrete that needs to be washed the most isn't in my backyard but in my heart. Lightning flashes again and it's closer. The rain pours harder tears fall faster but I'm happy in a sad way. I'm happy that I finally am used to feeling like this. I get time-sick it's like home-sick but you long for a particular time in the past not a place. I'm time-sick for last year and the one before. Winter of year 7 or the night I slept beneath the open skies at my pops; huddled in my thin sleeping bag. I want so badly to replay these moments that make me feel infinite. That maybe life is something amazing. That it's not just one big challenge everyone has to face for nothing. That's why whenever something happens to me I like to take a photo or write about it so when I'm time-sick for it I can relive it. I don't write as much for others as I do for myself. I write to remember the excited looks my friends give each other when they talk about band concerts. I write to remember the thunderstorms that make me cry. I write to remember exactly how I felt about you. I write to remember exactly how you felt about me.
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
