Growing up

“I should get up,” she says.
“This bed is depressing me so more.”
“What’s the point though,” she thinks.
Feeling the need to cry,
but not being able to.

She thought growing up would be much
different. The feeling is far from the happy
endings in the fairy tales.
Becoming an adult and taking
on responsibilities is not how she thought
it would be. She didn’t think it would
be so complicated to have everything
under control. She is so overwhelmed with life.

She can’t feel sadness anymore.
She got used to this horrible feeling.
She’s immune to it now.
Things aren’t getting any better.
All she does is worry about tomorrow.

This time, a year ago she promised
herself she would be happy by now,
but things are so out of control.
She tries to hold on to hope,
but her thoughts betray her.

The quiet is all too deafening,
but that’s all there is now.
Quiet, loneliness, and sorrow.
“Why didn’t I see it from a mile away?
How did I not see it getting worse?” she asks herself.

There she sits in solitude trying to work
out her troubles, not knowing what to do.
It’s hard to get anywhere with an unstable mind.
It feels as if this is how it has to be.
Lonely, always in pain.

People stare at me while I’m smoking a cigarette.
They say I’m too young to be doing that.
But I am also too young to be feeling this much pain.
To suffer everyday.
I know smoking is bad,
but the reason I smoke is worse.

Damage done to her darkened heart,
the child inside can’t help but drown in all
the tears the pain has brought with it.
The child inside is gone.
The only thing there is now is the
adult woman not knowing how her
life is going to turn out.

The day full of sunshine, the birds are
chirping cheerfully, but our feelings
are as colorless as the sky on a rainy day.
Walking down the street, emotionless
like the teenagers in old, sad movies.

“Life cut me along time ago,” she says
as she cries eternally.
“With a blade made out of darkness,
but the wound hasn’t healed.
It has been made to bleed forever.”