Sitting in my room watching the smoke slowly float around my head. I wonder when things got like this. I wonder if they'll ever get better. I feel nostalgic. I miss the days when I was younger. Living on ten acres of land, every day began with a smile for I knew that everyday would, without a doubt, be a good day.
What happened to that feeling? Now I find myself waking up and praying to fall back asleep, just a few more minutes of serenity, a few more seconds of freedom before setting foot into reality. Finding out the hard way that the bottom of a bottle promises no peace. It all seems so surreal. I never expected for things to turn out like this. It feels as if I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my life that have slowly been chipped away, cutting myself with broken slivers of glass. With my bleeding hands I ask for help but nobody seems to listen. They just look down on me saying, "You need help". Where do I find this help I wonder while looking into the eyes of the person who should care the most. I guess I'm better off alone. Maybe I should leave and find something that makes me happy instead of sitting here wondering what might. I need a beer and someone who understands.