I was wrong.

Today and yesterday,
and the day before,
and probably tomorrow,
are the reason I hated my younger teenage years.

I thought I had outgrown it.
I thought that my mom wasn't struggling anymore.
I thought my sister didn't hate the world.
I thought the darkness that ran through my veins all those years ago was gone.


I was wrong.


I can look into my mother's eyes and see a stranger.
She is not the same person that raised me.

I look at my sister and don't even recognize who she has become.
She's quiet and secluded.
She doesn't stand outside my door anymore and ask to do crafts.

I look in the mirror and I see myself, or maybe my mind is just playing tricks on me.

I didn't miss the pain I felt all those years ago.
I surely didn't ask for it.
I suppose not everyone can always be happy all the time.

It sounds a lot nicer than how I feel right now though.



06/07/2018

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