My inability to get out of bed when I’m not meant to be at work.
The weight on my lungs.
The look my mother gives me when she knows I’m not doing any school work but doesn’t understand why.
The moment I realized I was going into 2016 without a Best friend.
How I read because it’s the only way I can control what I feel.
The sentimental value I put on inanimate objects because they can’t hurt me.
The way I can’t sleep.
How hazzy my head is.
The way I know what it all means but I can’t speak without the air it steals.
From a crack in the wall Teenage Catastrophe