To be Continued

Everybody’s growing up, and I am looking into the past.

I am still that wounded child dealing with her trauma.

I do not like the future…

The future is murky and I cannot see myself.

But I see myself clearly in the past.

I fume in an oven of resentment.

Resentment I know I should get over.

The past is the past.

Yet I hold on to it for dear life.

It’s steady, consistent, I am omniscient to the past.

The past brings tears of happiness and deep sorrow into my eyes.

The older I get the more I lose certain details of memories.

Moments.

Happiness.

Things that I replaces with sadness.

What did my cousin use to sound like?

What would she of turned out to be if she was still here?

I wake up every morning the same way.

1. To an alarm.

2. What’s the point of getting out of bed.

3. Whatever stuff I need to do insert here.

4. She is gone.

5. I need to pee.

I question everything, over analyzing my life.

Am I living for a purpose?

Why am I working here?

Etc.

I am not sure of the purpose of this post.

I am also not sure how to end this.

So to be continued…

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