Warning: Level of depression: 97,97
I won’t start todays post with a poem because everything went down like a rollercoaster. It happens everytime I have a good time. This time it was Italy and then boom. Rollercoaster.
Darling, we are going to a funeral.
Except darling. My parents don’t like me that much.
Funerals are cool. You may be wondering ‘Why?’. I ”like” it because it’s a place where everyone wears black and they think it’s appropriate. I wear black all the time so I finally don’t look like a weirdo. I just am.
Just please don’t include poetry in your funeral ceremony. Or I won’t be able to hold my tears away. Poetry gets me every freaking time.
They, well, my mum, proved it by throwing ALL my old song texts I wrote since I was a child away. Thanks mum. She threw away texts, my notes for my pc, my little doodles, everything is gone. Thanks mum. All she said was: Sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have done it.
Yes, you shouldn’t have. But you did. And that’s the worst part.
What else can happen?
Will you throw me away?
You are original, stay original.