**The following writing is in reference to having to move back home, not about self harm.**
As one of my final nights approaches there’s a looming sadness over my head. I’ve never been one for goodbyes. So many memories were made, the good, the bad, and the unforgettable. Memories that will stay with me forever.
As one of my final nights approaches there’s a looming sadness over my head. I’ve never been one for goodbyes. So many memories were made, the good, the bad, and the unforgettable. Memories that will stay with me forever.
I heavily debate the decision I’ve made and where that road will lead me. Just as goodbyes are never good, uncertainties are just the same. Rules have never been followed and I’ve always been a warm hearted outcast. Warm on the inside yet watchful behind a quiet, guarded mask.
As the night falls so do my tears. Is this something worth crying about? I don’t know.
But I do because it’s a place I will miss. I place I called my own. A place I walked in letting the mask fall to the floor.
Now what will become of that secret safeness? Will I forever be wearing my mask of existence?
What will become of my life once it's shared openly again?
