the miserable life of a miserable teenager

I haven’t left the bed very much this week.

Went out for a few night drives, stared at the stars like they might shoot for me.

Went through a few dabpens, hoping to get foggier. No luck.

There’s really no point in getting high, I always feel high. I always feel like I’m dreaming. I always have a bad memory. I am always this emotional.

Cry for a few minutes,

take a break to play dress up.

Cry for a few hours,

take a break to watch another movie.

Cry for a few days,

take a break to act grateful to be alive.

Cry for a few months,

take a break to write petty poetry.