the miserable life of a miserable teenager

to breathe?

Why do I always have to remind myself,

I’m alive?

Why do I need therapy,

to live?

Why was I chosen,

to be fucked up?

Some days, I think my head might pop off. NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

It’s all in my mind,

but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?

I haven’t cleaned my room for months,

but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?

I haven’t showered in a few days,

but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?

I haven’t been eating much,

but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?

I haven’t fully lived ever,

but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?

No. It doesn’t. Nothing matters.