writing becomes hard when writing is a form of catharsis, and at this moment the things you have to say, you feel you can’t write, can’t admit to.
like wanting to be angry at someone who hasn’t been here for a while.
like wanting to beg for answers from someone who doesn’t have them.
like wanting what others have, but what do others have, that I don’t.
What am I missing?
Why does your past not stay repressed,
Why must unresolved issues need solving,
Stay back,
Where you were.
You belong to the me then,
not to me now.
And the future will say the same.
Always hating on a previous version of myself,
Refusing to take the blame,
For not solving it today,
While you are here in my awareness,
because i am still scared.
scared of so much that’s happened
so much I still don’t think about,
some that I don’t remember,
scared to think of what happens when I’m not here.
tired of healing,
the broken,
in me.
taking a break from growing and just being me,
does that happen?
give me answers,
to my questions.
please.
Alien Snig 