I treat the words as a painter and his brushes. What could my world be? I’m just a product of these things.
A ghost hidden among sincerity and anguish. 848 more words
This Is just me being depressed again, cause it’s what I usually feel. Cause happiness is fleeting it seems. Oh well whatever.
Swallowing the whole bottle just to feel alive. 286 more words
This has something to do with me growing up
Somewhere between age 7 and 21 I lost sight of who I was, who i wanted to be, as a kid I wanted nothing more than to just fly a plane and look out at the endless sky. 929 more words