why does it keep getting harder to be okay. not great, better, fine, alright… just okay. stable. im so miserable and i lie to myself about it every day. i don’t let myself feel the pain that’s building. i barely have friends that i keep in touch with anymore. it’s okay i know i did this to myself. im homesick like hell in my own bedroom. im faking a smile for the memories and one day looking back maybe ill forget all the tears i silently wipe away, at the corner of my eye, and they’ll slip out if i get to thinking long enough. everyone says how they care about me, but they don’t. they don’t give a damn about me once i start the car, put it in drive, and head north. i want my mom to tell me she misses me and that it’s not the same without me here; but she won’t.
all I care about is staying high anymore.
nowhere feels like home.